


Rise and Fall of the Heim Theory

by killaidanturner



Series: How to Build a Universe [1]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love, M/M, Photography, Pining, Poetry, Smut, Texting, a lot of talk about space, fragment writing, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 41,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/pseuds/killaidanturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean supposes that maybe he shouldn't try to craft a theory of everything, it would all revolve around Aidan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Portrait of the Definition of Ache

**Author's Note:**

> I have a really long commute and this sort of happened.
> 
> Thanks for durinsprinces and baggvinshield for beta'ing this and dealing with my AiDean crying.

Dean always thought that he and Aidan were binary. That they were two objects orbiting around the same center of gravity, always moving in the same direction.

Then filming ended, and press ended. It was all ending and Dean felt like the biggest chapter of his life was closing.

He fights with himself, tells himself he shouldn’t just let good friends drift into that space of acquaintances. That awkward and in between. Especially not Aidan.

The first week is ok, and so is the second. He thinks that he can do this.

The third week isn’t the best.

By the end of the first month Dean is in his own hell.

He is agonizing over emails and text messages. Wondering what time it is in Ireland, if he should bother sending anything at all.

He thinks that _Hey_ is too informal, _Hello_ is too formal and _Hi_ doesn’t seem to look right there on the screen staring back at him. He hits the delete button more times than he should. Wears down the keys on his keyboard. Thinks that somewhere out there in space there is a pocket where all of these deleted words are going.

He doesn’t know how this is supposed to work. Long distance. Doesn’t understand the miles of ocean and land and how technology is just supposed to make up for all of it.

He finally shoots Aidan a text after he sees a spread of him in a magazine wearing a shirt that says MY FACE IS UP HERE. Dean smiles when he sees it, know that his dimples are showing.

 

_I’m sure the whole world knows where your face is._

**DELETE.**

 

Dean sighs, knows that it shouldn’t be this hard.

 

_How much Guinness did you drink after you finished the first season of Poldark?_

 

**SEND.**

 

He knows the shape Aidan was in for filming, may have saved a photo or two to his computer. He also knows how much it probably killed Aidan to cut back on his favorite things to keep that body.

He puts his phone in his pocket, thinks about turning off all of his notifications. The phone vibrates as soon as it’s tucked away. Dean pulls it out.

 

_I got absolutely smashed! I also went to my mums and ate so much food that I couldn’t fit into my pants for about a week._

 

Dean laughs harder than he should.

* * *

Dean starts keeping his phone closer and with the volume on.

_Had to travel into London today. Please tell me you remember that time you got so lit that you tried jumping off of the bridge by parliament?_

_Aidan I swear we both remember that night very differently._

Dean does remember that night. It’s hazy and comes to him in bits and pieces. How Aidan’s curls blew in the night wind as they stood on the bridge looking out over the water. He remembers feeling so happy that he thought he could fly.

 

_You were talking about how you could fly._

 

_You were wasted as well Turner. I do remember you being so drunk that you took a piss in the church yard._

* * *

_I bought a camera today. Thought that you would be proud of me._

_Please don’t start asking me how to develop prints._

_You’re the best photographer I know!_

_Aidan, I’m the only photographer you know._

_Also I don’t think rainy photos of the Guinness factory are what people want to see pictures of._

 

_ _

_The sun is out today, thank you very much._

_I’m not even going to ask why you happen to be there._

_Personal invite :)_

* * *

It’s easier than Dean thinks, this back and forth. He gets to keep Aidan but on his terms. With Aidan so far away he never really worries about rejection, or Aidan finding out how Dean really feels when he notices that maybe Dean’s gaze flicks to Aidan’s mouth a little too much.

* * *

 

_Sometimes I forget how things looked in New Zealand._

_Yeah well maybe you should come out here sometime._

Dean wants to delete it, to pull it back across the earth and never even have thought of it.

_Yeah? I think it would be good to refresh my memory._

It’s a maybe of a plan but Dean feels himself clinging to it. It’s why he never wanted to say anything in the first place.

* * *

Dean tries not to make texting Aidan a habit, tries not to make it a regular addicting occurrence.

 

He lets the days fall into weeks without texting.

* * *

 

_What are you doing Deano?_

_Taking some pictures._

_Isn’t it like 1am there?_

_Yeah it is._

_What the hell are you taking pictures of?_

_I have an art show coming up in a few weeks._

_You didn’t tell me!_

_It’s not that big of a deal, just a small gallery in Wellington._

_Ok well since it’s not that big of a deal then what are you taking pictures of at 1am when you should be sleeping?_

_If I should be sleeping then why did you text me in the first place?_

_I had an idea._

_And what was this idea Turner?_

_That we should see each other._

* * *

They don’t text for a few days after that. Neither one of them wanting to know what that text really meant. Dean spends an exuberant amount of time going back to his phone and looking at that text.

* * *

 

Dean finds an older photograph of Aidan.

 

He finally let’s go of whatever has happened and calls Aidan.

* * *

 

Time dwindles down and Dean gets lost in working on the pieces to his gallery showing. Before he knows it he is standing in the middle of a room as he is surrounded by strangers looking at his photographs.

He tries not to make it obvious. Tries. Tries. Tries. Fails. Dean guesses it's obvious, that here in this showroom filled with his photographs how much he wants Aidan.

There was a theme to the photos once, he supposes, something completely different than what he is currently looking at. It’s all turned into vast sweeping landscapes of New Zealand. He supposes it’s because he had the intention of sending them to Aidan in an email after they gallery with an attachment that read. _Since you forgot what it looked like._

There is a photo that everyone seems to be looking at. It's an older photo from a premiere in Paris.

Dean had knocked on Aidan's hotel room door to see if he wanted to go explore the city. The dirtier parts, the parts you don't hear about when people talk about their holiday trip. Graffitied walls telling stories and trash-filled streets.

Aidan was shirtless, his pants hanging low from his hips with a cigarette dangling out of his plush lips. Dean had looked away, rubbed the back of his neck, tried not to focus on the sight of him.

Aidan had walked to the balcony; sunlight streaming in the open door. He turned to face Dean. It was obvious he had just woken up, acknowledging Dean with only a nod of the head. Aidan had taken a drag of his cigarette, parting his lips while keeping the cigarette between his teeth to blow out the smoke. Dean snapped a picture. He couldn't explain to Aidan why, but Aidan was used to Dean and his camera by now.

So Dean just mumbled _sorry_ and then asked if Aidan wanted to sight see with him. Aidan agreed, while tossing on a shirt. They spent the day learning the city together; just learning the avenues and metro stops, standing on the crowded train cars, falling into each other with each jerky motion. They went to cafes with the strongest espresso they had ever experienced and a wine bar where he and Aidan were more knocking back glasses than experiencing wine from France's famous vineyards.

Now Dean is standing in this gallery, showing off his work, and he's trying to think about why he thought it was a good idea to show this picture.

It's black and white, the sun hitting behind Aidan's hair to form a halo, as tendrils of smoke get caught in the sun's rays. The curve of his hip bones and tempting trail of hair leading down underneath his pants making a long inviting line. Part of Aidan's face is covered with smoke. He's half angel, half devil and all sin. Dean thinks this picture is something he should go to a confessional for.

He asked Aidan if he could put it in the gallery, asked if Aidan wanted to see it. They were on the phone when he asked, and Aidan said he trusted Dean's judgement. Dean swore he could hear the smile in Aidan's voice.

This picture was a way to relive the memory. He thought he was moving on, until he saw it framed and hanging for all to see.

All of a sudden Dean wants to rush to the photo to throw something over it. He wants to protect it, wants to be the only one to see it, and wants the memory to stay his.

Yeah, this is failing, Dean thinks to himself.                      

* * *

Dean puts on a smile, _a show_ , thanks everyone who compliments him, and never gives the truth about the photo. He listens to everyone's commentary on it. _It looks like a promise,_ one person says and Dean feels this crushing ache deep in his chest.

_There should be more like this._

_There's something about it. It's very intimate. Like maybe I shouldn't be looking at something so private._

Everyone wants to know how he captured the image.

_How many photos were there like this one? How many hours did he spend trying to get it?_

_It's an anomaly,_ Dean wants to say, _I took it on a whim when Aidan didn't know_. Dean wants to craft a lie so intricate that not even he will remember why he took this particular photo.

 **The truth:** Friends don't take pictures like this of their friends.

 **The staggering truth** : Dean feels like he's the Statue of Atlas, frozen and sentenced to carry the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He wonders if anyone thinks he looks like carved marble. He feels he is.

* * *

It's coming to an end. There was a reporter for a paper, a few bloggers; the turnout was bigger than Dean had anticipated.

He's standing in the middle of this vast room, looking at the photo; how light is bringing out details he's never seen before. When he closes his eyes the image is still burned into them.

The catering crew is cleaning up. The owner of the gallery is talking to a few other people.

He senses something, a paradigm shift in the universe. It’s as if the air is different, crackling with memories of filming as Dean feels nostalgia of those times wash over him. Dean turns to see Aidan standing there, mouth slightly parted, hair an array of dark curls.

“ _Aidan_.” It's tumbles from Dean's lips, out into the space between them.

Neither one of them move. They stand there with what feels like continents between them.

"I didn't know that's the one you were going to use."

"I asked if you wanted to see it," Dean might be a little defensive.

"It's fine, it's not that. I'm not upset or anything. It's nice."

There is something lingering between them, growing and taking shape. Dean wonders if anyone else saw the elephant enter the room.

"I didn't know you were coming," Dean wants his voice to sound steady, but it's rough with emotion.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. Plane got delayed. I was supposed to be here sooner. I haven't even checked into my hotel yet."

They haven't seen each other in months. Only the occasional phone call or text message. There's the urge every day to ask Aidan how he's doing. To send an email about his day. To send photos that he took. He's afraid of the novelty of it, that whatever he may have felt would disappear through fiber cables and cell phone towers.

There's an overnight bag shoved haphazardly under a table in the corner of the room and Dean tries not to smile. "We can move your bag out to the floor and claim its modern art."

The tension that seemed to be between them breaks with Aidan's laughter.

They stay until it's just them. The owner has gone to their office but everyone else has packed up for the night. They're looking at a photo. All of it is different from Dean's other work. More sweeping landscapes, abandoned buildings. The only portrait was of Aidan.

They're standing in front of a picture of a mountain, it’s a time lapse of the night sky. There's thousands of stars against dark purple.

"I've never seen anything like it." Aidan whispers.

"I'll have to show you some time." Dean smiles when he sees Aidan shining at him with all the intensity of the sun. He immediately regrets it. He wants to catch the words and pull them back into his mouth; swallow them down, even if he chokes on them.

"I'd like that."

They leave it like that, no time stamp on it. Just a maybe.

* * *

They agree to go to a bar for celebration. Dean wasn't going to do anything after tonight. His plans consisted of laying in the dark and pining. This, this he thinks is much better. And worse.

They're smashed.

Aidan is telling a story, arms flailing around wildly. "I was driving. No listen! Listen. I was driving."

"You're pissed." Dean laughs as Aidan crinkles his nose.

"Maybe a little."

They both laugh harder than they should at this.

Aidan tells Dean a story about how he drove his car onto the sand at the beach and couldn’t get it back out. Dean can barely catch his breath by the end of it.

Their laughter dies down.

"The beaches in Ireland are different than New Zealand. I think I like yours better."

Dean wants to ask more, wants to ask the exact difference; ask if he can narrow it down to the grains of sand. Aidan is looking at Dean, eyes moving rapidly. Searching.

Dean takes a swig of his beer and looks away. "Now I know you are drunk."

Clinking glasses. Muffled laughter. Too much noise but none of it coming from either of them. It's like the building is crumbling around them, tearing away at the structure and letting in the reality of everything. Dean takes a breath but feels like it's not reaching to his lungs.

He can't bring himself to look at Aidan again, but he feels his eyes on him. Dean is creating a chasm. Chipping away at the space around them and making it bigger. Big enough that he can fall into it and let it swallow him.

Dean looks at his watch and realizes the time.

"I missed the check in at the hotel." Aidan is sheepish. It's partly Dean's fault, he realizes; that Aidan missed the check in, sitting here pretending that time doesn't exist.

"You can stay at my place." Dean doesn't pause, doesn’t skip a beat. He let's the words flow out as if he's said them a million times.

"I don't..."

"Aid. Aid. It's fine. Not a problem at all."

Aidan smiles. He hadn't heard Dean say his name like that it months and it rings with something familiar and new all at once.

"Alright."

Dean carries Aidan's bag inside. He isn't that smashed that he can't carry it, Dean just wanted to feel the weight of it in his hands. Wonders what sorts of things Aidan brought on this small trip.

Dean only turns on one light, keeping the room illuminated just enough to see. He leaves Aidan in the living room as he carries the bag to his guest bedroom. Dean looks at the bed for a moment, thinking that after tonight it will smell like Aidan. He shakes his head, tries expelling that dangerous thought from his mind.

He tries to ignore this feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one trying to reach the corners of his mind. The one telling him there's something else going on here.

Dean has never been one for getting his hopes up and he isn't about to start.

"Would you like a drink? It doesn't have to be alcoholic." Dean calls over his shoulder as he makes his way into the kitchen.

Aidan is there backing him against the wall, looming over him. Dean realizes his apartment is smaller than he thought. Thinks about looking at the layout for it and square footage because right now it seems infinitely smaller than when he purchased it.

Aidan is crowding him, conquering the space between them. He exhales and Dean swears his breath smells like spring.

Their lips meet.

It's hard, crushing; a clash of teeth. It's messy and the most beautiful thing Dean has ever experienced. Aidan's hands are cupping his face as he presses himself against him.

It's everything Dean’s wanted.

He thinks of stellar collisions and if this is what two stars must feel like when they meld into each other.

It's too much.

He feels the panic rising in him with the future looming around him. He wants this too much, too wildly, for either of them. His mind races in a hundred different directions. He feels a piece of his heart breaking off with each new thought. It's then he realizes that he can't do this. He can't want Aidan like this, not with how much he truly _wants_.

He wants everything.

He wants them reading in bed as they look over scripts for each other, lazy Sundays, late nights driving with the windows down with nowhere to go. How he wants to tell Aidan every secret he has ever had. Wants to learn every language in the known universe just so he can tell Aidan how much he wants this.

It's a life that wouldn't give Aidan as many opportunities for his career.

Dean breaks away, turning his head away from Aidan.

Both of them are breathing heavy. Dean feels himself breaking with each exhale.

"I can't do this Aid." God he can, he knows he can, but at what cost? He would consume Aidan and it scares him.

"What do you mean?" Aidan has his eyebrows knitted together. Dean can see his temper rising. He wants to pull him down, place a kiss between his eyes, smooth away the wrinkles.

"Us." Dean doesn't give details. Knows that if he goes into the specifics of it, that Aidan will form an argument; find a way to convince Dean that this is a good idea. Dean knows that he wouldn't be able to stop if it started again.

Aidan looks at Dean, really tries to look at him. Dean can see what is happening, that Aidan is trying to dig for a truth under these words.

There isn't a big fight, no screaming, no arguments. It's worse.

It's silence. It's a look on Aidan that Dean has never seen before and he is the one that put it there.

Aidan pushes past Dean into the hall to go grab his bag. Dean stands there with his back against the wall, eyes closed, as he starts counting the seconds.

_1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10._

He wonders what time will mean to him now.

Aidan is at the front door. He doesn't turn, doesn't say anything. Just opens the door and slams it shut behind him.

It’s retrograde motion.

There is a picture on the wall, the photograph of Aidan in the hallways to one of the hotel's they had stayed in, looking into the mirror. It rattles, falls off the hooks, slides down the wall and shatters.

Dean thinks the whole thing is rather fitting.

* * *

He spends days avoiding his phone. Turning it over so he can't see when the screen lights up from a notification, intentionally not charging it just so he doesn't have to look at it.

Aidan never calls. Never texts. He doesn't even send a lengthy email telling Dean how much of a twat he is.

1,123,200 seconds.

Dean decides time shouldn't matter anymore.

* * *

He realizes he does not like the city.

Does not like the crowds of people.

Does not like watching everyone.

Does not like that it is not him and Aidan.

He looks at the wall in his apartment way too frequently for his own good. Plays the scene out over and over. Pours salt in the wound every day.

He remembers everything. Which suit he wore to which premiere. How their arms would touch from standing too close as they shoved their hands in their pockets. The urge to grab Aidan's hand and put it in his. Dean remembers every single one of those times.

The plaid shirt from the time he and Aidan went to go get halal chicken because Dean was swearing to Aidan how much better it tasted.

His oatmeal colored sweater from when they were doing press junkets. How much Aidan made him laugh that day.

There's a small red stain on one of his white T-Shirts from where Aidan begged and whined to go eat Italian even though Dean told him it was a bad idea for lunch. The way that Aidan threw his head back and laughed when Dean dropped sauce on his shirt.

He contemplates just for a moment if he should burn all of his clothes. __

* * *

Dean wonders if this is what a haunted house really means.

* * *

2,332,800 seconds.

  
Dean decides he needs to move.

 


	2. Landscape of Dislocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thinks that if he gets out of this that he will show Aidan the stars, and all of their missed moments. How Dean would play them out differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I want to sit here and say that all events depicted in this fanfic are 100% real and true they are not. Allegedly.

Dean finds a house in the country. It's down a secluded road, no other houses around and he just knows this is the place. Dean looks out over the land. Tall grasses, trees blocking the view of his house. The house isn't grand, just big enough for him and Batman. It's different than what he is used to. The air smells different but it's welcoming. It all speaks of a fresh start.

He spends time working on his art. Nights sitting on the patio with the fire pit going while he reads. He doesn't answer his phone. Stops reading scripts. At one point he thinks to lose his phone all together but knows eventually he will have to go back to the reality of it all.

He lays awake at night in a bed entirely too large for him. He finds a ghost in all the empty spaces.

It’s crushing, how much he envisions a different life. He tries to find conversation in all the silence.

He thinks about what it would be like to rewind time, to go back to the moment. Would he do it differently? This causes him to start thinking of all the missed opportunities, moments he could have said something differently, changed his position to be that much closer to Aidan. Dean remembers reading somewhere that if you look through a telescope and into space that you are really looking into the past. He wonders if he can see all of these missed moments out there in the cosmos. He starts counting the stars, naming each one after every missed moment.

He lets time go by. Tries not to count it. Attempts to live in a world where it has no meaning but he always feels it looming

It doesn't work.

He's turning into something he doesn't recognize. He feels like a shadow of his former self and it scares him how much he's changed.

He makes a plan. Decides to go to Nepal to work on his photography. He thinks it's a good idea. Somewhere on the earth that Aidan hasn't touched. He can see the culture, learn about it, take photos and capture the lives there. Yes this is one of Dean's better ideas.

So he packs a bag. Barely brings anything with him. It's all mainly equipment. He just wants to experience something different than this.

 

* * *

 

It's almost perfect. He stays busy. He learns from the people there, starts to feel more like himself.

They teach him things like how to make almond milk. He keeps learning and stays busy and he thinks that this is what healing means.

And that maybe space and time will turn around this melancholy thing in his life and make it something he can look back on without regret.

 

* * *

 

He never thought that something like this would happen. Tremors of fault lines, shaking the foundation.

He thinks of Aidan during the disaster. Wonders if this is how it will all end.

He hopes that if it is that Aidan will forgive him.

He always wondered what he would think about during his last moments.

It's all flashes of Aidan. Every moment. The good and the one bad. The pinnacle of them all. He wishes he had time to play back all these memories for Aidan, show him how he really sees them.

He thinks that if he gets out of this that he will show Aidan the stars, and all of their missed moments. How Dean would play them out differently.

 

* * *

 

It's chaos. There's many without homes now and Dean feels helpless for a moment. Knows he needs to do something, anything.

 

* * *

 

There's delays and he has no service. He just wants to get back home. The airport doesn't feel how it normally does. It's not filled with an atlas of people's lives, destination points on their map. It's filled with something more frantic. It's tainted and he can feel the anxiety rising.

Dean finally gets a plane back home and it's awful. It's the worst flight he's ever had. The disaster clings to him, weaves its way through the fabric on his clothes. He carries the weight of it all the way back home.

 

* * *

 

He calls his parents. Let's them know he's okay. His mom cries. He doesn't say anything about that though, just tries to stay comforting.

 

* * *

 

He waits to develop the photos, puts the project on the sidelines and focuses on what happened in Nepal.

He continues to stay busy focusing on a relief effort.

His phone starts ringing. He looks down at the screen to see Aid written across in big white letters. He watches it, lets the phone vibrate in his hands, can feel it all the way in his bones.

 

**Missed Call Aid**

 

Text Message: _I’ve been trying to call. I heard you were in Nepal, I didn’t even know that you went._

Text Message: _I hope you’re ok._

 

Dean looks at his phone as if it could hold the answer to all his questions. He wants to answer, wants to ask to see Aidan. He feels like if he could just see Aidan’s smile or hear his laugh that the past few weeks would all disappear. That some how it will shift the world back to how it is supposed to be.

It’s too much, he shouldn’t rely on one person so heavily for it.

Dean lets his phone ring, feels himself breaking with each missed call.

 

**Missed Call Aid**

**Missed Call Aid**

 

Dean thinks of dark matter. He can’t see it but he feels its effects pulling him in different directions, weighing down on him. He feels it growing and taking up space in his universe.

 

**Missed Call Aid**

 

It’s not fair how much he wants it. Just to hear Aidan’s voice.

 

**Missed Call Aid**

 

He remembers what he told himself in Nepal, about showing Aidan the stars and realizes why he can’t do it. He thinks of Aidan as a star and can only imagine him expanding all of his energy and collapsing. Dean thinks if Aidan is a supernova then he would be a black hole, pulling in all of his light.

 

Text Message: _If you’re ok can you please just let me know. That’s all I’m asking._

Text Message: _Dean._

Text Message: _I’m getting desperate here._

_Yeah, I’m fine._

 

Dean doesn’t want to look at his phone, doesn't want to see the reply that comes in. He tosses his phone on the couch and tries to forget about it.

**Message Unsent.**

 

* * *

 

He knows that 3 days have passed when it happens.

Dean was in his studio room when he heard a noise outside. Batman's ears picked up. Dean looked down at him and then made his way to the front door.

There's a shuffling of feet on the front porch. Dean looks out the window to see dark curls and a disheveled Aidan running his hands through them. He sees Aidan's lips part slightly and realises he's talking to himself.

He is a conflict of emotions. He wants to smile as he wonders what Aidan might be talking to himself about, but at the same time he feels as if his heart is trying to break past his ribs. Dean thinks of solar flares, how the energy is built up until it's released and thinks that is how it is every time he sees Aidan.

Dean goes to the door, places his hand on the doorknob and waits. He thinks of the countdown of a spaceship being launched.

T minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

He’s an astronaut and this will be his final mission.

Dean opens the door to see that Aidan has his back to it and is about to walk down the few steps off of the porch and into the overgrown grass. They stay frozen, both of them incredulous over what is happening. Aidan finally turns around, a small smile playing at his features.

“I, uh, I’ve tried calling.  A lot actually. Your phone goes straight to voicemail though. I…” Aidan trails off, can barely meet Dean’s gaze. Dean sees the words forming in the space between them. I wanted to make sure you’re ok. It creates a deep ache in his chest that even after pushing Aidan away here he is on his doorstep.

“Yeah, I haven’t bothered charging it.” Dean could lie, say he lost it but there’s no use in lying to Aidan.

Aidan sets his jaw a little firmer at this. “Look, I get if you want to have time away from everyone but maybe you could have bothered letting someone know if you were alright or not.”

Houston we have a problem.

When Aidan says someone, he means him.

“I sent you a text after I got your calls.”

“A text? You sent a fucking text? I didn’t get a text. And you would think after seeing so many missed calls on your phone then that you would think to have the decency to call back.” Aidan is all wild hand gestures, pacing around in small circles. He ends the sentence giving Dean a look that he is certain could kill and running his hands through his thick curls.

“You’re right. I should have.” He doesn’t say sorry, feels like if he admits it then it will bring with it a flood of guilt.

It’s as if Dean can see an aperture opening up between them, something so big he can almost fall into it. He can see the tense squaring of Aidan’s shoulders and wants nothing more than to smooth them out.

Dean wants to ask him how he got this address but feels like he is already walking on a tightrope.

“I know that things didn’t end that well between us but you’re still my friend Deano.” It’s his nickname that has a hand clenching around his heart. For a moment Dean wishes he was made up of circuit boards and wires instead of this thing pumping blood, making him feel.

“Why don’t you come in a while?” I’ll try to make it up to you, Dean wants to say but keeps it in.

 

* * *

 

A while ends up being the whole day. Until the sun has set and the moon summoned.

“I live kinda far from any hotels, where are you staying at?” Dean asks as he plays with the label on his beer bottle.

“Here.” Aidan says it so casually that Dean almost doesn’t question it.

“What do you mean here?”

“I mean in your guest bedroom.” Aidan shoots Dean his dazzling smile and he forgets the argument for a moment but then realizes that smile is exactly why he should not be in close proximity of Aidan.

If he argues it, then it will be obvious how much he wants it. Instead he gives a slight shrug of his shoulders followed by a mumbled. “Alright.” Putting the bottle to his lips.

It's late, too late for Dean to be awake normally. He’s avoiding sleep, avoiding saying goodnight because he knows that Aidan will be in the next room sprawled out across the bed.

Dean spends the night awake, trying to listen to the quiet sound of breathing from the next room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately the disaster that happened in Nepal was real. I already apologized to god for using it in my fanfic. A lot of the historic sites have reopened and relief efforts are being made. I'm sorry for the lives that were lost.


	3. Square Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembers sitting on the hood of his car and thinking of geography, the true meaning of the word distance. Not just the numerical side of lands and miles and the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, deep blue and endless. But the ache that accompanied it, how it seemed infinite and immeasurable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter seems short. It's draining to write these two like this. I just want it to have an element of realness to it.

Dean wakes up thinking about what it was like when the last of the Hobbit had ended and they had wrapped up the DVD commentary. He remembers the reality of it all crashing around him like meteors. He got in his car and drove down backroads and unfamiliar highways until the fuel light came on. He had pulled over on the side of the road. An in between place that existed as a connection between towns and cities.

 

He remembers sitting on the hood of his car and thinking of geography, the true meaning of the word distance. Not just the numerical side of lands and miles and the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, deep blue and endless. But the ache that accompanied it, how it seemed infinite and immeasurable.

 

He remembers at the time wishing that the space between the New Zealand and Ireland would fall into the ocean like Atlantis. Remembers thinking about building a boat, charting a course and setting his bearing. That maybe with a map, a compass, and a boat the distance could be conquered.

 

Lying in bed it all hit him again like a collision of stars. The way it seems easy to talk to Aidan about anything. How for a fraction of time last night if felt like there was a small part of the universe cut out just for him and everything was just how it should be.

 

Then he remembers the light touches, Aidan's knuckles brushing against his, Aidan's laugh, God his laugh that sounds like the most perfect thing in the world, the way his eyes crinkle and he throws his head back, his dark hair framing his face. Late nights and early mornings, Aidan falling asleep on his shoulder, the way he holds a cup of coffee tight to his chest to warm up, sweatshirts that are too big in him, how he shuffles his feet when he's just waking up. At premieres when they would be inches apart, Dean shoving his hands in his pockets trying not to reach out to Aidan. The feeling of being pulled towards something, feeling like there was a purpose for all it. That maybe there was a meaning for astrological signs and words like destiny and serendipity.

 

That's how it happened, with the crunch of gravel underneath his feet, hot summers, suitcases, camera flashes, sound of static in the air, technicolor vibrant hues, late night Netflix binging, take away, and uneven breathing accompanying a fast beating heart. The feeling of being truly alive. Dean remembers all these things, how he fell in love, has them catalogued and stored away.  

 

His memories are a museum and all exhibits are off limits.

 

Dean rolls over and looks at his phone. He ignores the text messages but instead opens up browsing and types in Aidan’s name. Aidan was telling him about the UK success of _Poldark_ and Dean decides to look for himself. He reads the reviews, critics singing Aidan’s praises. He’s happy for him, truly happy. He sees that in a few weeks Aidan is slotted to do a few runs on American talk shows and knows that is where he will truly reach a new level of fame. Can already feel it looming over him like a solar storm waiting to happen. He knows the things that will accompany all of this and wants Aidan to be able to have it all.

 

He closes the app on his phone, laying it back down on his night table. He stretches and tries to come up with resolve in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Aidan is already awake with a pot of coffee brewing. He’s sitting on a stool at the bar in nothing but sweat pants. Dean tries not to focus on this fact. Tries not to look at every lean curve on his body. Wonders to himself what he ever did to deserve this.

 

“‘Morning.” Aidan mumbles and then smiles at Dean. Dean stops in his tracks, on his way to the cabinet to grab a mug.

 

Aidan’s smile is reaching his eyes and Dean takes a mental photograph of it. Adds it to his collection. Adds ropes around the picture with a sign attached that says _Exhibit is Closed._

 

“Morning.” Dean replies back, can hear the tone in his voice and knows that he doesn’t sound like himself.

 

“So I was thinking…” Aidan starts off and Dean remembers all the other conversations that have started this way with them and already doesn’t like where this is heading. “That we should talk about what happened.”

 

Dean wants to hang his head in defeat, knew that this was coming. Instead he squares his shoulders and turns around to face Aidan. "There isn’t a lot to talk about. Aidan your show is doing so well, and don't try to sit here and down play it. I've seen the responses. You're going to have to start doing American press soon. Then you'll start filming the second season." It’s survival.

 

"Why can't I also have this?” The question sounds so simple but Dean knows of all that is attached to it.

 

He wants _this_. This and so many other things. Dean remembers Aidan’s lips on his, residual embers of skin on skin.

 

"I’m here, and you’re so many kilometers away that I would never be able to map all of it out. Because it would mean 45 hours straight of traveling, time spent at baggage claim, delayed flights. It would be we’re in completely different time zones. When I’m sitting here by myself I don’t want to look up at the night sky and know that you aren’t seeing what I’m seeing.” It sounds shitty if Dean really thinks about it. That those are little things in the grand scheme of things. That he could get up at 3am if he needed to Skype but decides that this answer is easy. So he takes this route, tries to see where it is going to end.

 

“There’s things for that Dean. Skype, FaceTime, texting, emails, phone calls. Hell, I would even write a letter and let it spend a month getting here if I needed to.”

 

_I would want more than that, I would want as many mornings with you as I could get. I don’t want to have you in my bed one night and gone the next._

 

It’s not working. He knows Aidan has a counter argument for everything Dean is saying. He tries another course.

 

“Because I don't ever want there to be a day where you pick me over a role. I want you to have everything you deserve. I don't want you to turn something down and years later you regret it and resent me, things like that are bound to happen in this profession."  

 

"Is that what this is about? You know what Dean? I would turn down a role for you, I would turn down every role for you but it's not logical." Aidan is talking with his hands, moving them around in front of his face.

 

"That's what scares me Aid. I don't trust myself to tell you not to do it." Dean feels selfish, can envision himself letting Aidan’s career slip by them.

 

"I trust you."

 

"You shouldn't."  Dean holds Aidan’s gaze, tries to convey how important this is.

 

"You've created this image about yourself Dean and I don't understand it. I know you better than I know myself Dean and sometimes I don't even think that I know you. But I'll be damned if you don't let me try to learn." Aidan is determined. 

 

It's breaking pattern. Dean feels thrown off orbit. Aidan's pushing, trying to map out new courses and Dean is stubborn. He's deteriorating, watching each piece of armor being pulled off with each new argument.

 

Dean doesn't say anything, doesn't have the will to keep this argument going for today. Instead he turns to walk out the front door grabbing a camera on the way out, he whistles for Batman who comes trailing behind him.

 

* * *

 

He spends hours outside. He doesn't take any photos, can't find anything to take pictures of. He's just been wandering, thinking too much. Considers his thoughts wild, they remind him of the overgrown blades of grass overtaking the land.

 

He comes back to find Aidan outside working on the fence outlying the land. It's old, covered in rust and leaning in places. A grey shirt is clinging to Aidan’s skin, drenched in sweat and showing the tone to his body.

 

It’s as if everything around Aidan has taken on a new color, everything looks more alive. Dean has the urge to lift up his camera and take a photo.

 

He doesn’t, he keeps his hand still. He wonders why it’s like this, wishes he could break it down into chemical equations, put it under a microscope and identify it. Dean wonders if when the equation for oxytocin was made that it was felt and not just elements written down.

 

He takes a picture of the landscape, makes sure that Aidan isn’t in it. He knows that even without Aidan in the photo that he will still be able to remember this exactly how it was. Sodium lights casting a yellow glow on the porch, heavy air filled with heat.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean is standing in the living room, running a hand through his windblown hair when Aidan comes storming in. He throws a hammer down on the coffee table by the couch and is starring Dean down.

 

“I just want to know why. Besides the acting, why? The acting isn’t a valid enough reason to me. There are plenty of successful relationships out there where people spend time apart.” Aidan says it so flippantly, as if this applied to their situation. As if Dean would not put every ounce of himself into whatever they have.

 

He thinks again of black holes and wonders when he collapsed.

 

"It's like the heim theory." Dean thinks that he should really stop, that whatever he thought of on his walk should stay to himself.

 

"What's that?" Dean can see the frustration rolling off of Aidan in waves.

 

"It was the first theory of everything, it was disproved though." Dean remains calm, wants Aidan to understand this. The weight of each syllable on his tongue.

 

"What's like it?" Aidan’s defenses are coming down as his shoulders relax and he looks at Dean with curiosity.

 

"How I feel for you. It's this equation that explains everything. Like you're the key to the universe. I've put everything into it. Its physics and math and science and every formula you could possibly conceive and it all spells out how I feel for you. And I'm just sitting around waiting for someone to come disprove it. To point out a flaw of yours. Is anyone looking as closely as I am? So I'm sitting here looking for flaws, trying to disprove my own work. Every day I wake up thinking today will be the day, I'll finally prove all of this wrong. Find your flaw, cross out the formula, discredit the work." Dean's voice is broken as he keeps his eyes to the ceiling.

 

Aidan feels an ache settling in his chest, taking up space between his lungs. He feels it push against his ribs with each breath, fighting for dominance. "I don't want us to be something you to try to tear apart."

 

"I have to Aid, can't you see how much it's destroying me?" Dean thinks of himself as a Visigoth and Aidan as Rome, and this is his promise of ruin.

 

Dean just wants Aidan to understand. Understand the pain of distance, the choices that they would have to make. He wants Aidan to understand that he already loves him too much, the reckless way that he wants this. Dean is wearing his flaws on his sleeve, trying to let Aidan see this side of him.

 

“That’s the solution then? Keep pushing me until I decide that being friends isn’t worth it?” Aidan’s temper is flaring again as he realizes what Dean means and the hurt he is causing the both of them. “I’ve been trying so hard Dean. You have no idea what you put me through when you didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t even tell me that you moved! I had to call your brother and ask him for your address! He’s the one that told me you were even fucking alive! I just want to be of some sort of value to you Dean.”

 

Dean thinks he can feel fault lines trembling and feels his anxiety rising as he remembers the panic from the week before. Its flashes of crumbling buildings, screaming carrying through the streets.

 

He sits down on the couch, puts his head in his hands. Just tries to breathe.

 

“Are you going to answer me?”

 

 _You’re the most valuable thing to me._ Dean thinks it, can’t find a way to get the words out past his lips.

 

Dean keeps his eyes shut as his breathing picks up. Oxygen and carbon dioxide mixing together in his hands as he tries to slow his breathing. He feels the weight of the couch shift as Aidan sits down next to him.

 

“Dean, are you ok?” Concern replaces the dissipating fury.

 

Dean lightly shakes his head _no_ as he keeps his face in his hands.

 

There it is, the root of it, unearthed and laying out before them.

 

He feels Aidan’s hand lightly touch his back. Can feel Aidan’s fingers running up and down his spine. Dean counts his vertebrae as Aidan’s fingers trail along him. His breathing starts to calm.

 

Aidan doesn’t talk, understands that there is something else going on here. Dean wonders to himself why he can’t have this. Why he’s been fighting himself when all he really needs is this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone who has been commenting.


	4. The Seven Step Process of Hypothesis Testing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been naming the stars.” Dean can’t really explain why he says it but he does. He guesses this is the moment of truth. He wants to laugh really, thinking about destiny and stars aligning.
> 
>  
> 
> Aidan turns to look at him with raised eyebrows.
> 
>  
> 
> “Well not naming them exactly but attaching a memory to each one. A time when I should have said something to you about how I felt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember that tag I have that says there's a lot of talk about the sky, well here it is

The roll of thunder, vicious, and strong. Dean wonders if it’s really about to storm, he doesn’t remember seeing any clouds when he was outside.

 

_“Inhale.”_

 

_“Exhale.”_

 

_“I’ve got you.”_

 

Aidan’s voice pulls him back, away from the noise and the crumbling buildings. 

 

Dean pulls his head out of his hands and looks at Aidan, who is looking at him with worry.

 

“I’m sorry.” It tumbles from Dean’s lips and he’s not too sure what this _sorry_ if for but he feels like it may be for everything.

 

  
Aidan doesn’t say _its ok_ , doesn’t say anything. He keeps his hand running down Dean’s back in soft small motions and its acceptance enough.

 

They stay like that on the couch in the silence, Aidan never taking his hand off of Dean. It moves from his back, to his neck, down his arm and back up. Every time Aidan’s hand touches somewhere new Dean takes in a deep breath. He can feel his heart slowly picking up pace in his chest but it’s different from earlier. It’s no longer frantic but instead feels nervous in a way that makes his skin tingle and his head light.

 

They let time pass, watch the sky cast red and pink hues in through the open blinds until there is nothing left in the living room but shadows.

 

The sun finally sets leaving the sky to open up to the night.

 

“I want to show you something.” Dean puts his hand in Aidan’s, runs his fingers across the back of Aidan’s knuckles, tries to memorize the texture. It feels like it _fits_. He tries not to linger on this thought, tries not to just stand there in wonder as he feels Aidan’s skin touching his.

 

He takes Aidan outside to the porch where there are chairs and a fire pit that Dean set up when he first moved in. Dean takes a seat in one of the chairs facing the land in front of them, Aidan takes the seat next to his.

 

Dean doesn’t know what is ok and what isn't, doesn't know the appropriate amount of time he can hold Aidan's hand. So he lets his hand go and sets in at his side as he looks up at the sky.

 

“When I was in Nepal, I told myself that I would show you the stars.” 

 

“You also told me you would show me them when I went to your gallery showing.” Its snarky and 100% Aidan.

 

“We never put a time stamp on it.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

They stay silent as they look up at the darkened sky streaked with silver flecks.

 

“I felt like I was collapsing.” Aidan’s voice is quiet, has taken on a new tone that Dean hasn’t heard before.

 

Dean understands this, the physics of it.  The violent way it feels like you'll never recover. He stays silent as Aidan looks up at the sky.

 

“I’ve been naming the stars.” Dean can’t really explain why he says it but he does. He guesses this is the moment of truth. He wants to laugh really, thinking about destiny and stars aligning.

 

Aidan turns to look at him with raised eyebrows.

 

“Well not naming them exactly but attaching a memory to each one. A time when I should have said something to you about how I felt.” Dean looks away, can’t meet Aidan’s gaze. He’s admitting that he has spent nights out here thinking about Aidan, thinking about them and countless possibilities. Dean looks up to the stars, knows the layout of them, has a map created.

 

“That one there, that’s from the premiere of An Unexpected Journey in Wellington. We were being interviewed, you had just tossed your head back and laughed. I couldn’t help but to look to your lips. I should have kissed you then. Damn with the repercussions. I see that picture a lot, and its torture.” Dean knows this picture well, has every angle on Aidan memorized. He hates this picture, knows how much it really shows about them.

 

Even in the dark Dean can see the upturned corners of Aidan’s mouth starting to form a smile, it’s enough to compete against the stars.

 

“That’s from the bar we went to in Manchester. The one that we thought was some bloke’s basement. It was island themed, he wore a tacky Hawaiian shirt and we drank out of coconuts. It was dark in there, we sat on the couch buzzed looking at all the polaroids on the wall. You asked the owner what the pictures were for and he said he took a picture of anyone that drank his famous Volcano. Your eyes got so big, I knew you wanted to do it. There’s a picture of us on that wall in that bar in some back alley in Manchester and I think about it more than I should.” Dean remembers the dim lighting, the 50’s islander feel  and Elvis on a record player. Deep leather couches and wooden barrels as tables. He remembers Aidan groaning and talking about how he never wanted to see a wooden barrel again in his life.

 

“That one is from in France. When we decided to rent a car which was an awful idea. It was a manual and you decided to drive. We were going uphill when the engine was killed. We caused a huge traffic jam and everyone started yelling at us in French. I had to get out of the car and direct traffic to go around us because you thought that my french was good enough to do so while you sat in the car laughing and trying to get it running again. You looked so beautiful even in the heat and the chaos.” Dean smiled fondly at this memory as he looked at Aidan who has looked back to Dean now. His eyes are laser focused and Dean tries not to get lost in their depths.

 

Dean is trying, hoping that this is working. Its trust, showing Aidan the stars.

 

“That one is from the time you called me at 3am because you decided that time zones shouldn’t matter.  You sang to me the first few pages of this older American book called _The Ballad of the Sad Cafe._ You were on this book kick and had just finished reading a lot of Faulkner. You had moved on to this small story. I was exhausted but you just kept singing the book to me, you intentionally sang it horribly, making up tunes that didn’t make any sense and hitting everything off key but it woke me up. It was one of the best things I’ve ever heard. I should have told you then how much it meant to me.”

 

“It’s still one of my favorite books.”

 

“I read it after that.”

 

“You did?” Aidan is looking at Dean in disbelief and Dean can’t help the smile forming on his face.

 

It feels like gravity is weighing down on him, pushing him toward the earth and making him insignificant and small compared to this moment.

 

_“First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself.”_

 

Dean smiles at Aidan, smug in his own way that he remembers this quote from the book. He realizes the quote that he picked though, knows the implications of it. 

 

“I’m impressed Deano, now you just need to brush up on your singing so you can compete with me.”

 

“Count me out on that part.” Dean doesn’t tell Aidan that it was the first book he had read in over a year. That he never has the urge to read besides having to read scripts. He’s scared to tell him that it’s his favorite book too.

 

Aidan doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching Dean’s finger pointing at the sky so Dean continues on. “That one is when you gave zero fucks about the Duke of Cambridge speaking to us at a premiere. Everyone was so enamored with him but I kept looking at you. I should have said something then.”

 

“I was so irritated that night.” Aidan makes a frustrated groan after his statement and Dean tries not to laugh. Dean remembers Aidan rolling his eyes and acting completely disinterested in the whole situation.

 

"That's from the time we drove up to the beach, just you and me. We had been up all night and were about to come off of a small break from shooting. You had come back from Ireland early and your schedule was still off so I decided to stay up with you. We watched the sun rise from the hood of the car. You were so beautiful, sun rays hitting your hair, casting you in an orange glow. You were watching the sunrise but I was watching you. Trying to etch that into my memory. I never want to forget how you looked when the sun came up over the water." Dean is remembering in detail that exact morning. He thinks he must sound like he's romanticizing all of it but he truth is that he isn't even doing the scene justice.

 

"I was silent in the car on the way back." Aidan says as he continues looking up at the sky.

 

"I remember. We both were. I thought it was the time zone finally catching up to you."

 

"No. I was wide awake. Felt more alive than I ever had and it worried me."

 

"What did?" Dean sits up in his chair a little as he tries to brace himself for what may be coming.

 

"How much I wanted you." Aidan's voice is filled with regret. Dean thinks that maybe he should start naming the stars too. "What's that one?" Aidan asks as he points to a star shining the brightest.

 

"That's....that's from the first time we kissed. I should have done it all differently. Should have let you stay. I could live a hundred lives and never know if I could redo that moment right."

 

Dean can't find the strength to look at Aidan but feels his dark eyes watching him.

 

"The sun is a star. If the North Star is that moment then what does that make the sun?" Aidan's voice is quiet and Dean knows that this question is real to him.

 

"It's right now." Dean gets out of his chair and goes to Aidan's. He leans down, cupping Aidan's face in his hands. He looks into his eyes, looking for hesitation but doesn't find any. He gently presses his lips to Aidan's, draws out the kiss, makes it slow. Aidan's hands reach up to Dean's shirt, balling up his fists and pulling Dean into his lap.

 

Dean isn't going to screw up this time. He's charted a course and mapped out the stars.

 

Dean finds a way to fit in the chair, legs on either side of Aidan, straddling him.

 

It's still too much, too big for Dean to really grasp. But he thinks that if we can shoot of probes into space and not really know what is going to happen to them then he can do this. It's the unknown and he's terrified. Truly scared of fucking up the best thing that's ever happened to him but he thinks of it as discovering new galaxies. He'll welcome the unknown, record the data, memorize it.

 

Each touch is a transmission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any obscene problems with grammar/use of commas are all my own fault cause I did this chapter without my beautiful beta


	5. Interpret the Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean read somewhere once that when you see something for the first time that your mind slows down time in order to memorize it. It’s why the drive home is always faster than the drive to a new place, you’ve already seen the surroundings. He wonders if he has a good concept of time anymore, how much time has truly passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a million thank yous to Rachel for looking over this for me :)))) and listening to my AiDean crying :))))) and listening to me when I realized that these two men have no idea that I'm alive. You're the best.

They spend the night learning each other. Dean didn’t take it far, just wanted to feel his hands run across Aidan’s skin. He never thought that he would have this so he takes his time memorizing shapes, lines, dip in the lower part of Aidan’s back, the scar he has on his left arm from when he was younger and fell out of a tree. Dean wants to learn all of these things, be able to know them even in the dark.

 

He keeps his hand in Aidan’s through the night.

 

When he wakes he can feel the summer heat against the windows and entering the house. He looks at Aidan’s dark hair framing his face and standing out stark against the white sheets. His hand is clammy from being in Aidan’s all night but he doesn't mind. He thinks of all the times that he wanted to reach out and feel Aidan’s hands. He compares them to other hands that have been in his. He makes mental notes of the differences. How Aidan’s are soft, he didn’t expect them to be this way. How the skin takes on rougher textures around the knuckles. He takes his free hand and runs it down the back of Aidan’s. His hands are strong from working out and when he moves certain ways Dean can see the veins underneath.

 

He wants to wake up Aidan, wants to say good morning but it doesn’t seem right. He can’t find words. Feels like _good morning_ is insignificant to what is really going on. He was never good at expressing himself so he lays there, his hand entwined.  He’s never been good with words, with sentiment.  Aidan moves and wraps his leg around Dean and Dean feels his heart clench. He doesn’t know how this is going to work but he knows that he is going to learn.

 

Aidan stirs, opening his eyes slowly. He looks at Dean and smiles.

 

Dean read somewhere once that when you see something for the first time that your mind slows down time in order to memorize it. It’s why the drive home is always faster than the drive to a new place, you’ve already seen the surroundings. He wonders if he has a good concept of time anymore, how much time has truly passed. He looks at Aidan and feels time slowly, feels himself trying to memorize the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles, the way he tilts back his head, the curve of his lips. Dean wonders how his smile compares to Aidan’s. If it’s as wide, if he shows as many teeth. He knows for certain that it is not as beautiful.

 

“Good morning.” It’s simple, but not nearly as insignificant as Dean thought it would sound coming from his own lips.

 

“Morning.” He says it in a rush of breath.

 

Dean smiles back at him, moves a little bit closer, feels the magnetic pull.

 

“I didn’t say it last night and I meant to, I really meant to Aid. You are valuable to me.” Dean has his hand in Aidan’s. Squeezes his fingers.

 

Aidan’s eyes search his. Aidan doesn’t say prove it to me, doesn’t put up an argument, doesn’t throw anything back in Dean’s face.

 

“I may not fully understand all of your reasoning for some of the things you do, but I want to try.” Dean feels himself break at Aidan’s words.

 

Aidan’s words are forgiveness and the promise of redemption.

 

He thinks of a broken satellite. How it has to be repaired, the steps taken for it. How it's not an easy fix. Training astronauts and sending them off into space to fix it. 

 

“I know that I’m not easy…” Dean can’t find the words, doesn’t know how to say that he’s only ever really been good at fucking up.

 

“I’m not easy either. I complain constantly. I’m pushy. Sometimes I want to scream at you and fight you just because I can, just to get a reaction out of you. I know I shouldn’t but I don’t know Dean, I think sometimes you need to be pushed.” Aidan is already animated, laying on his back now making a pushing motion with his hands.

 

Dean can’t help but smile at Aidan.

 

“You’re right.” It’s not what either of them was expecting. Aidan rolls onto his side to look at Dean.

 

“I’m right?”

 

“You’re right.”

 

“You never think that I’m right.” Aidan is raising his eyebrows questionably.

 

“This time you are.” Dean leans over and presses his lips to Aidan’s. It’s rough, their lips are dry and he knows their breaths are stale. It’s not perfect but Dean loves everything about it. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

 

“I could get used to this.”

 

Dean thinks that he could too.

 

* * *

 

They spend the day together, inside and away from the heat. They lay around and talk. Sometimes they don’t, they fill the silence with TV and music. They don’t talk about the past few weeks. Only focus on the right now.

 

It’s a piece of the world cut out just for them. It’s a wild mixture of happiness and fear. He knows why it’s this way, why it’s not just one thing. The fear, and hope, and desperation are all there to make these moments truly count.

 

* * *

 

 “I bought some books a few weeks ago, I haven’t had too much time to look at them though.” Dean is going through the books on his bookcase and looking for the thin books.

 

“What kind of books?” Dean can hear Aidan adjusting himself on the couch, probably moving his legs so he’s sitting on them.

 

“Astronomy.”

 

“Astronomy? Like the sky?”

 

“Well yeah Aid, that’s the definition, isn’t it?” Dean finds the books and pulls them off of the shelf.

 

“Arse. I just don’t understand where this came from.” Aidan is sitting exactly how Dean imagined he was, with his feet tucked underneath him. He smiles at the image, can feel his dimples showing.

 

“I’ve had a lot of time out here, before I went to Nepal. I wasn’t doing much, just working on my art and things. I had somewhat forgotten what the sky had looked like. Then I came out here and saw it. Remembered that there’s a lot more going on out there.”

 

“Apparently not enough time to text anyone.” It’s cutting and Aidan looks immediately regretful after he says it.

 

Dean sits down next to him on the couch, puts a hand on Aidan’s knee and gives him a small smile.

 

“I’m sorry.” Aidan runs a hand across the stubble on his face that is growing in. A habit he does when he’s nervous.

 

“I get it, I do. I don’t know what I would have done if we were in opposite positions.”

 

Dean tries to think about it, to put himself in Aidan’s shoes. He pushes down the panic that is starting to rise. “We should go outside.”

 

* * *

 

 “You have a telescope?”

 

“I haven’t had a chance to use it yet. Don’t really know what I’m doing but I figured that we could learn together.” Dean is taking the telescope out of the box and looking at the pieces with a confused face as Aidan picks up the instructions.

 

“These instructions better not be complicated. I don’t like assembling furniture.”

 

“It’s not furniture.”

 

“Well it’s going to end up being a very decorative piece of furniture if we don’t figure out how to use it.”

 

“Aid, you have the instructions upside down.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I think that one is the Corona Austrina.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Aidan is crinkling his nose at the name of the constellation.

 

“It says it means _The Southern Crown._ ” Dean squints as he tries to see the words in the book in the light from the fire.

 

“I don’t know, I think I liked it better when you were naming them.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“Tell me what that one is.”

 

They’re lying on a blanket on the grass, Aidan is pointing at the stars but Dean is looking at his hand.

 

“It’s fear.” Dean realizes that these things are easier in the dark, where his features are illuminated by a blue light and it’s easier to hide.

 

“Of what?”

 

“Distance. Not just the distance though, of what it will create. What if I create an image about you in my mind that isn’t real? What if I start to change things about you because of the distance?” It’s fear manifested into words.

 

Aidan stays silent for a moment.

 

“We’ll find time. I won't let that happen.”

 

“You’re unstoppable when you want something.”

 

Aidan turns to Dean, his smile wide.

 

“I don’t deserve you.” It’s out there in the open where Dean can’t take it back.

 

“It’s not about deserving. Relationships. It’s a give and take and compromise. Deserving is like saying _‘I deserve this piece of cake cause I had a really long day.’_ Deserving shouldn’t be put into a person. It’s someone else's actions and thoughts. We’re all put into different circumstances and we have done what we have to in order get out of them. Sometimes it doesn’t put us in the best of light. I don’t want you to ever think that you don’t deserve me. That I’m some great thing. It’s just me Deano.” Aidan is fierce when he talks, shows a passion that could move, makes you want to listen to him for hours.

 

“Sometimes I wonder where this profound shit comes from.”

 

“You know I’ve wondered that a lot too.” Aidan is leaning closer now, his lips hovering over Dean’s. “Kiss me.”

 

Dean kisses him. On his lips. And _there,_ and _there,_ and _there._ Let's his lips trail across Aidan’s body, across soft skin and hard muscle. Slowly and with purpose.

 

He wants to give him everything. Rearrange the night sky.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on my tumblr, listen to my AiDean crying


	6. The Golden Rule of Film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s cinematic, how everything seems to slow down when they look at each other. If it were a movie it would be all close up frames, intense gazes and lingering silence.

“We should go camping.” Dean throws the idea out in the open.

 

“Camping?”

 

“Yeah. Why not? Long drive down the forgotten roads. I’ll let you sing along to the music.” Dean makes a winding road motion with his hand as he stands by the coffee table.

 

“Oh? You’ll let me sing along?” Aidan sits up, leaning on his elbows to get a better look at Dean.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I didn’t know I needed permission.” Aidan flops back down onto the cushions, a stray curl landing in his eye.

 

“You intentionally try to ruin all of my music.” Dean walks over to the couch, leaning down so he’s eye level with Aidan. He moves the strand out of Aidan’s eye, lets his hand linger in his hair.

 

“That is not true. I am trying to make it better.” Aidan’s voice is quiet as he watches Dean. It’s cinematic, how everything seems to slow down when they look at each other. If it were a movie it would be all close up frames, intense gazes and lingering silence. Dean leans down and places his lips lightly to Aidan’s and feels the swelling in his chest.

 

“Let’s go where no one knows us.”

 

* * *

 

Dean rents a trailer which Aidan looks at questionably. Dean tells him it's better than them trying to pitch a tent. Aidan tosses his hands up in the air and tells Dean he’s driving.

 

* * *

 

They’re driving in the car. There’s music. It feels like it goes along to the slowly winding roads. Rise in tempo, crescendo. It’s not just music. This song is now attached to a memory.

 

Dean thinks that to an outside viewer that the scene laid out before them is simple. Two men in a car, in the darkness of night, music playing softly.

 

It’s more than that though. It’s here that Dean realizes he had just been waiting. Waiting for a moment to happen. Everything has been leading to this. It was all just a road leading here. He feels as if he just fast forwarded his life and sped up to this moment. It’s all glimpses and snapshots through a camera lens.

 

And this song, this song is attached to that. When he hears it he will think of the diner that they ate at at 3am because Aidan was hungry from driving all night and wanted pancakes. He’ll think of Aidan’s hand on his when it’s on the shifter. The glow of city lights in the rearview mirror. He’ll remember the shiver that ran through his body.

 

“What are you smiling about?” Aidan asks him, the corners of his mouth upturning.

 

“Nothing.” Dean smiles even wider. This is an overture, the prelude to whatever this is. Whatever they are.

 

“You should smile more often. You’re beautiful when you smile.”

 

Dean can feel the dimples in his cheeks, the strain of his muscles and knows he hasn’t smiled this much in a long time.

 

* * *

 

There’s a book on the camping grounds. A sign in log for hikers and people who visit. Dean flips through the pages, looking at the different colors of ink and signatures. He picks up the pen and holds it between his fingers. He doesn’t sign his name but instead he writes.

 

_I love him in a way that I'll never understand._

 

It makes sense in a way. It's this grand thing with attachments and moving pieces and no one prepares you for it. You take classes and you ask questions but this is not in text books. There's no definition.

 

He sets the pen down. His own writing looks unfamiliar to him. He feels like he could speak a hundred languages and never be able to string together how he feels.

 

* * *

 

“After everything ended, when I thought that I wouldn’t be seeing you again, I drove. I drove until the gas light came on in the car. Then I sat on the hood looking up at the endless sky above and wondering how this would ever work. Then I drove back. Ran out of gas about three miles from a town.” They’re sitting on a log, sufficient enough for a bench. There’s a small fire in front of them and Aidan’s face is highlighted, the orange glow casting his angular features in shadow.

 

“What did you do?” Aidan is suppressing a laugh even though Dean thinks that there isn’t anything funny about the story.

 

“Walked into town and filled up a can of gas. Just enough to get me into town to fill up.”

 

“That’s what you get.” Aidan is playing with a long blade of grass, tearing it apart with his fingers, and smiling as he keeps his eyes on his task.

 

“For what?” Dean is looking at him with raised eyebrows.

 

“Being stubborn.” Aidan is smirking and Dean can’t find it within himself to argue.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me another memory.” They’re laying on top of a blanket by the fire. Aidan is laying with his arms crossed behind his head, his shirt exposing the trail of hair leading down. Dean is sitting up, his arms wrapped around his knees. He’s trying not to stare but knows he’s not making a very good go of it. Aidan raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Like what you see?” Aidan moves just enough that his shirt rides up even more.

 

Dean fakes a cough, clears his throat and looks away. He focuses his eyes to the sky.

 

“That one there. That’s from the time you fell asleep on the couch in my trailer. We had a really long day of filming but you insisted that you weren’t tired and wanted to hang out. We went back to my trailer and while I was changing you fell asleep. I couldn’t wake you up. Not even if I wanted to, not with how you sleep. So I sat in the chair by you. I worked on editing some photos, just spent time listening to your breathing. I don’t know, it was...comforting.”

 

Dean remembers the feeling of being at ease. He feels like maybe comfort is the right word. Tries to flip through his mind for a more fitting one. He thinks of the word home. Feels how it makes his throat tight and his heart beat just a little bit faster.  

 

He doesn’t say it. Tries to pretend he never thought.

 

“Let’s go inside.” Aidan suggests and Dean welcomes the distraction.

 

* * *

 

“I’ll never get use to it.”

 

“Get used to what?” Aidan is laying on top of Dean, his knee pressing between Dean’s thighs to open his legs up.

 

“This.” Dean leans up, presses his lips to Aidan’s. Opens up his legs so Aidan can press himself closer. It’s paradise, the feeling of Aidan’s palms running across his skin.

 

“Tell me again.” Aidan pulls away, whispers the words on Dean’s neck. Can feel the shiver that resonates through Dean’s body. Dean suddenly thinks that there’s too many clothes, clenches Aidan’s shirt prepared to pull it over his head.

 

“I’ll never get use to it.”

 

* * *

 

Dean lets Aidan take him apart.

 

Their love is a religion. Aidan is the priest and Dean is a sinner begging to be saved. Each touch is a prayer and each moan a hymn.

 

Dean wants to spend the rest of his life begging for redemption.

 

Aidan picks up Dean’s hand, kisses his knuckles.

 

Dean knows that he will remember the weight of Aidan’s hips on his.  

  
  


* * *

 

It’s morning and they’re ready to head back. Dean doesn’t mind that they’re cutting the trip a little early. He has things that he wants to do with Aidan back home.

 

He walks over to the guest book, thinking that maybe he should write something under his scribbled handwriting. Something about the word understanding. He flips back a page to find it. Underneath it though is someone else’s familiar messy scrawl.

 

_I don’t understand why I love your smile so much. I guess because it’s familiar, or maybe it’s the way that your dimples show because you refuse to show your teeth. I wasn’t looking for love, I don’t think either of us were. I know that we’ll be separated a lot, I know that the distance won’t always be easy but you’ll always be my destination._

 

Dean can feel the smile on his face. He looks back over to the trailer to see Aidan standing at the passenger door looking at him. There’s dirt and gravel being blown around by the wind and Dean has to squint his eyes against the sun. They stand there like that, holding each others gaze. Letting their unspoken words travel between them.

 

_I love you._

_I love you too._

 

Dean hopes that one day he will work up the courage to say it.


	7. The Science of Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each day is a new experience and something familiar all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has been commenting on this fic. tbh it's like my favorite thing I've ever written so it means a lot.

He didn’t think that falling would feel like this, like relief. That the swelling in his chest is a reprieve from the stillness it once held. He didn’t realize how muted his life was, full of dull colors. How sound seemed muffled and filled with static. Everything has taken on new hues and is filled with clarity.

 

* * *

 

Each day is a new experience and something familiar all at once.

 

Dean never thought that breakfast with someone else would mean so much to him. How empty and quiet everything truly was. Wonders how he thought he was going to live out here in the country on his own.

 

Dean wonders how long they can get away living in their own world.

 

* * *

 

 

“I have to go to Cornwall soon.” Aidan says one afternoon while they are sitting on the couch.

 

“I thought filming wasn’t for a few more months?” Dean thought that there way may more time than this.

 

“I have another job. Uh, an Agatha Christie novel.”

 

Dean looks up at Aidan, wonders why he hasn’t told him this sooner.

 

“Aid, do you even know what it’s about?” Dean tries not to laugh. Can see Aidan racking his brain for it. Aidan runs a hand over the back of his neck.

 

“I googled it.”

 

“Christ.” Dean is laughing now, falling back into the couch cushions. “Her novels are mystery novels. Are you sure you don’t want to read it?”

 

“No! You know how I am, I have to be in a mood to read. The only books I have ever read I’ve already told you about.”

 

Dean can’t stop laughing as he remembers Aidan’s classic American literature phase. “You were looking up almost every word.”

 

Aidan throws a pillow at Dean who blocks it with his arm. “Do you even know what this is going to be called?” Dean is trying to suppress his laughter now.

 

“I know what the titles are for the jobs I have taken on.” Aidan is pouting and sounding defensive which only makes Dean want to tease him more.

 

“Ok, so what’s it called?” Dean is raising an eyebrow at Aidan who is glancing at him from the side of his eyes.

 

“And then there were none.” Aidan says smugly and picks up a script that Dean has sitting on the coffee table and flips through the pages.

 

“Oh, I liked that one. You know it was said to be one of the greatest mystery novels of all time.”

 

“Don’t make stuff up just to try to get me to read a book.”

 

“Did you not even ready the wikipedia on it?!” Dean is laughing again.

 

“I may have skimmed it.”

 

“You just looked up your character didn’t you?”

 

Aidan turns and smiles at Dean. “Might have.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean tries not to think of time dwindling down, how nights are turning into days. When Aidan is asleep he goes through the scripts being sent to him. It’s all just lines on paper and nothing is sticking out to him.

 

He sits on the couch running a hand through his hair.

 

“Thinking about taking any?” Aidan’s tired voice comes from behind him.  Dean turns around to see Aidan standing in the doorway in nothing but the sheet wrapped around his lower half.

 

Dean licks his bottom lip and quickly goes to shuffling the papers in front of him. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Aidan asks as he sits down on the couch next to Dean.

 

“None of them really stand out. Guess I don’t really feel up to it.”

 

“It happens sometimes.” Aidan leans into Dean, leans so much that he pushes Dean back onto the couch.

 

“I think I want to work on my photography for a bit.” Dean says quietly.

 

Aidan’s lips are pressing against his neck, mumbles the words against Dean’s skin. “I think you should do whatever makes you happy.”

 

 _You make me happy._ Dean keeps the thought on the tip of his tongue.

 

Aidan’s lips start trailing down Dean’s neck and Dean can’t help but to arch up into Aidan.

 

Aidan is already moving a hand underneath Dean’s shirt, feeling the thick hair on his chest. “Too many clothes.” Aidan says as his lips are next to Dean’s ear. He pulls the skin into his mouth, lightly grazes his teeth against the lobe before moving down Dean’s jaw.

 

Aidan’s other hand is working against the button on Dean’s jeans. “Why did you put pants on again?” Aidan pulls away and give Dean a look with raised eyebrows.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

 

Aidan is already tugging the material off. Dean lifts his hips to help. Denim is thrown behind them and lands somewhere Dean doesn’t really care all too much about at the moment.

 

All he feels is the heat of Aidan’s skin against his. Aidan’s lips are hungry, violent almost. Dean moans into him. Aidan moves a hand lower, taking Dean into his palm and getting a tight grip. He flicks his wrist and bites Dean’s bottom lip just as he tugs a little too harshly.

 

Aidan moved his lips further down, making a trail down Dean’s body, keeps up the rhythm with his hand.

 

“I’m gonna make you hurt.” His voice is low, predatory and Dean can’t help the want that courses through him. “Make you remember me for days, how I feel in between your legs.”

 

Reality. It comes crashing down as Dean feels the strings on his heart being pulled. Aidan’s plane leaves tomorrow.

 

The thought quickly diminishes as Aidan is pushing Dean’s legs open and putting his mouth around Dean’s cock. His tongue runs up and down. The stubble on his chin rubbing against Dean’s thighs. It burns but it’s welcome. Dean wants to remember this, the feel of Aidan’s lips on his body. The way Aidan’s fingers slowly work him open.

 

* * *

 

Dean can’t sleep. Lays awake with Aidan pressed against him. Tries not to think about how much he will miss this.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s silent in the car on the way to the airport. Aidan keeps his hand in Dean’s the whole ride.

 

* * *

 

**ON TIME.**

 

“I was sorting hoping it was going to be delayed.” Aidan admits as they look at the flight board.

 

“Mm.” Dean doesn’t know what to say. Can’t find it in himself to go _“I wish you didn’t have to leave.”_

 

They sit in chairs, watching planes and people pass.

 

“Do you remember we had a flight delayed when we were in the states and we were to be going to London for more press.”

 

“I remember you falling asleep on my shoulder once we did actually get on the plane.”

 

“You were sitting in a chair and you got out a little black notebook. You had been sketching. Back before I knew you had this artistic side to you. You were so caught up in it that you didn’t notice that I had been looking at you the whole time.”

 

“I didn’t think that anyone noticed what I was doing.”

 

“I always notice what you’re doing.” Aidan says it smugly, has the urge to put an arm around Dean. Dean wants to reach out, put his hand in Aidan’s. Instead they rest their hands on the armrests of the chairs, try not to feel how close they are to touching.

 

“How much time did we waste?” Dean blurts it out as he’s looking out at the crowd of people.

 

“Too much, but we have a long time to make up for it.” Aidan whispers it, tries to fight the smile he wants to give Dean.

 

It makes Dean feel a little bit better about the whole thing.

 

* * *

 

_“Boarding for Flight 837 Zone One.”_

 

Aidan as his ticket in his hand, is looking down at Dean who has his hands shoved in his pockets.

 

“I don’t know how to do this.” Dean says as he looks down at the ground. “Act like friends out in public. I don’t know if I’m doing it right.”

 

“Mates can hug.”

 

“Did you really just say that?”

 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Aidan blurts out.

 

“Can’t you wait? They’re boarding your plane.” But Aidan is already walking down the hallway and to the restrooms. It takes Dean a moment to piece it together.

 

Dean follows him into the bathroom, is thankful it isn’t crowded. Aidan walks into a stall and Dean follows.

 

There is barely time to lock the door before Aidan has Dean pushed up against it, his lips claiming Dean’s.

 

Dean grabs Aidan but the collar of his shirt and pulls his body flush against his. Kisses back with just as much ferocity.

 

It’s fast and messy and their hands are going in too many different directions but Dean doesn’t care, just wants to remember Aidan like this. Reckless and like a storm.

 

* * *

 

Dean sits in the chairs they were in earlier. Texts Aidan until his flight takes off. Sits there in the hard chair watching time pass him by and tries not to think about how empty his house will feel now without Aidan taking up space in it.

 

* * *

 

The first night isn’t so bad. It’s the second night when the sheets still smell like Aidan and realization starts to sink in.

 

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t know how often they should talk. How many text messages are acceptable to send. Overthinks everything. Spends too much time deleting sentences and thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 **Aid 12:02:** You’re quiet.

 

 **reply 12:02:** Jesus, what time is it there?

 

 **Aid 12:03:** Not important. Been busy?

 

 **reply 12:04** : Just been looking for somewhere to take some photos. Think I might have found a place.

 

 **Aid 12:05:** Can’t wait to see them

 **Aid 12:06:** You know you can text me right?

 

 **reply 12:07:** I don’t want to bother you while you’re on set.

 

 **Aid 12:08:** It’s only a problem if once it airs you see my character in the background pulling out a phone when its suppose to be the 1930s

 

 **reply 12:10:** Please don’t try it

 

 **Aid 12:11:** What makes you think I would??

 

* * *

  
  


**Aid 17:45** :I miss my head between your thighs

 **Aid 17:46:** Got yelled at

 **Aid 17:47:** Worth it

 

 **reply 17:48:** Put your phone away and I’ll make it up to you later

**Aid 17:49:** Skype date?

 

* * *

 

 

Dean tries to fight the smile on his face when he sees Aidan in a loose white shirt sitting cross legged on the bed in his trailer.

 

“Its awful, I feel like it’s always raining.” Aidan complains as he falls back onto the bed causing the screen to bounce.

 

“You live in Ireland, you don’t have a right to be complaining about the rain.”

 

“It’s because I live in Ireland that I do have a right.”

 

“You’re ridiculous and you complain way too much for an adult.” Dean says it but he’s smiling the whole time. Aidan shoots up and glares at the screen.

 

“This was not my original intention for this date.” 

 

“What was your original intention then?” Dean asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

* * *

  
  


**Dean 09:20:** Those wardrobe choices that they have for you are not the best

 

 **reply 09:21:** Are you looking at my dailies O’Gorman?

 

 **Dean 09:22:** I just wanted to see what it was like out there.

 

 **reply 09:24:** Liar. You just wanted to see my arse ;)

 

 **Dean 09:24:** Well it's a little hard to in those pants that they have you in. Luckily I got to see it last night.

 

 **reply 09:27:** Would you like to lodge a complaint with wardrobe? I’ll tell them my boyfriend says the pants aren’t showing off my figure

 

* * *

 

Dean tries not to think about it. Hopes he isn’t dwelling on one word so much. But he pulls out his phone just a little bit more frequently to go back and look at _boyfriend_ staring back at him on the screen.

 

* * *

 

 **Aid 19:31** : I don’t know

 

 **reply 19:33:** Don’t know what?

 

 **Aid 19:40:** Never mind.

 

 **reply 19:47:** You can tell me.

**Aid 19:48:** No, it’s nothing.

 

 **reply 19:49:** Nothing is never just nothing with you.

 

 **Aid 19:50:** I have to get back. Maybe some other time.

**reply 22:58:** I miss you.

 

**MESSAGE NOT SENT.**

**CALLING AID.**

**The person you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at the moment. Please try again later.**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will I ever give them a break? no. I can't. the angst monster that lives in my heart is real. :))))) also have you ever had cell service over seas???? shit is shady af. I posted this on a day I didn't have wifi and was using a cell phone so there may be a few small tiny mistakes that I may have to go back over sometime this week. please forgive me.


	8. Unforeseen Variables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He figures this is how fate works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god I'm so weak. I'm the weakest smallest child. I couldn't do it. keep in mind I'm on mobile but like I couldn't leave that how I did. so very weak and fragile. save me from myself.

**AID CALLING**

 

It had been over a day since Dean had talked to Aidan. After about twenty missed calls Dean had given up. Spent his night awake in bed, hoping that everything was alright.

 

“God Aid what happened?” Dean is breathless as the words tumble out.

 

“I know, I’m sorry. Fuck. I was texting you and we were doing a late night shoot and I dropped my phone in the fucking ocean.”

 

He figures this is how fate works.

 

“I shouldn’t have had it with me. I know that, but I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to miss a text from you. So I had to go all the way to the shops and get a new phone after we finished filming for the day. I’m sorry Deano, I feel like shite.”

 

Dean wants to tell him he could have at least shot him an email but holds it inside. Knows it isn't fair to say something like that. 

 

“I’m sorry too.”

 

“Why are you sorry? You’re not the one dropping your phone in the fucking ocean.” Aidan wonders how many times he can fuck this up. He knows how Dean feels about distance, knows how much all of the space between them is truly bothering him. Its their first week apart and Aidan already is finding ways to make the situation worse. 

 

“Because I barely lasted a day.” He still sounds out of breath, almost broken in a way. 

 

Aidan understands then. Remembers Nepal and the panic that went through him when he couldn’t get ahold of Dean. “Ah.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Dean repeats it, doesn’t think that he will ever be able to say it enough.

 

“Well if it makes it any better, it was the longest day of my life.”

 

Dean lets out a relieved laugh. "We both had a hard time then."

 

“And I am currently standing outside of the mobile store right now hoping that I don't loose signal. You’re the first person I called.”

 

“Just promise me you won’t have your phone in your clothes on set. I don’t think pleated trousers were meant to hold iphones very well.” Dean still feels the strain and panic from earlier, hopes that it will eventually subside. 

 

“I swear. I learned my lesson. Next time I will listen to you.”

 

“Yeah that seems like a good plan.”

 

“Goodbye Turner.” Dean smiles as he pulls the phone away.

 

“Wait!” Aidan screams through the phone.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Do you think maybe I can call you in a bit?” It sounds nervous and Dean imagines Aidan looking shy and keeping his eyes cast low.

 

“It will be the middle of the night here Aid.” 

 

“Yeah I know but…”

 

“But what?” He guesses he can cut out a few hours of sleep. 

 

“I just really miss you. Thought it would be nice to hear your voice some more.”

 

Dean smiles, smiles wide and knows his teeth are showing. He runs a hand over his face and tries to wipe the stupid grin off. “Yeah, alright. I’ll keep the volume on, yeah? You can call me.”

 

“You aren’t going to say it back?” It’s playful and Aidan truly knows how to sound offended. Actors. 

 

“I miss you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there i fixed it. i know its small but i just, my little heart ok.


	9. Quantum Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aid 19:45: I have a week off coming up.
> 
>  
> 
> reply 19:46: Yeah?
> 
>  
> 
> Aid 19:52: Thought maybe I could come out there  
> Aid 19:55: If that’s alright with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update again cause why the fuck not. I was in the mood. please forgive any grammar errors. I didn't run it by my wife cause she was busy and I'm an impatient little shit. Thank you to everyone for reading. Like I know this is the smallest ship in the history of the universe but I like writing about them.

It's like standing in the ocean and the waves are pulling back from the shore. And it feels like you’re moving, you’re going to fall and lose your breath. But then the wave is gone and you’re standing still. That’s what it’s like. This long distance. When Aidan is here, he is a powerful force and when he leaves Dean feels like he is just standing still waiting for the wave to come back in.

 

* * *

 

 **Aid 19:45:**  I have a week off coming up.

 

 **reply 19:46:** Yeah?

 

 **Aid 19:52:** Thought maybe I could come out there

 **Aid 19:55:** If that’s alright with you

 

Dean wants to say yes, wants to be selfish.

 

 **reply 19:56:** Have you had a chance to see your family yet?

 

He looks down at the message.

 

**DELETE**

 

 **reply 20:01:** Yeah, I would like that.

 

_Fuck it._

 

* * *

 

Aidan is standing on set, trying not to just lay down on the floor and put something over his face and close his eyes.

 

Waiting, that’s what most of acting is. Sitting around and waiting.

 

“Gonna be about 30 more!” The assistant director calls out to the cast and Aidan resists the urge to groan.

 

30 minutes.

 

He makes a dash for his trailer and grabs his phone right when he enters.

 

He hits the button to light up the screen.

 

He quickly unlocks it and starts going through his messages. There it is buried in the middle.

 

 **Dean 00:03:** Miss you.

 **Dean 00:04:** Bed is kind of lonely without you

 **Dean 00:17:** Batman misses you too.

 **Dean 00:21:** Someone should take my phone away from me.

 

Aidan smiles, throws his head back and laughs. He imagines Dean sitting at his work top, going through photos. He can see the vision perfectly, Dean leaning down to pet Batman. Dean picking up his phone then setting it back down. Dean worrying about what he should text. Dean who overthinks. Dean who is more reserved. Dean who has a quieter sense of humor. Dean who has beautiful lips, and dimples when he smiles. Dean who looks at Aidan when he’s talking, _really looks._ Dean who when he focuses on something, it’s like nothing else exists. His Dean.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Aid 7:14** :

 

 **reply 07:36:** Yeah only like 40 more hours of travel

 

 **Aid 07:37:** Maybe you should sleep until I get there if you’re gonna be grumpy

 **Aid 07:38:** Besides I plan to tire you out

 

* * *

 

 

He’s anxious. Not just to see Aidan but airports seem _off_ to him now. All he remembers if the flight back from Nepal and how his heart bled for those around him.

 

He closes his eyes as he tries to tune out the screaming.

 

He goes to the arrivals and departures board.

 

_Flight 8937 Arrival 14:45 NOW AT 15:09_

 

Dean groans as he goes to sit down in one of the gray waiting chairs. He pulls out his phone charger and hooks it up to his phone. He scrolls through apps and old messages. Tries not to look at the time.

 

**14:19**

 

He bounces his legs up and down, leans back in the chair and tries to hide behind his phone. He pulls up the browser but can’t think of anything to look up. Instead he goes to his photo album and starts flicking through photos.

 

He stops on one from Aidan one day when they were out at lunch during press for the last hobbit. Aidan has his hair pulled back in a bun and the camera seems to focus only on him. Dean understands the concepts of photography, how models are taught to pull the attention to them. He knows it isn’t intentional with Aidan. You could put him in a room with a thousand people and he’d still be the one to stand out.

 

Dean sits in the airport thinking about Aidan. How the used to wait for planes together. How Aidan would always sit next to Dean. Aidan who likes the window seat, likes to see the sights beneath the window. Aidan who falls asleep on anyone or anything. Aidan who is impatient, can have a short temper. Aidan who will fight for what he believes in. Aidan who kisses softly in the mornings. Aidan who runs his knuckles down Dean’s back. His Aidan.

 

That’s who he’s waiting for and as long as he holds onto that, then the airport doesn’t seem so suffocating.

 

His phone vibrates.

 

 **Aid 15:07:** This fucking plane just landed and I want nothing more than to get off of this plane and see you

 **Aid 15:08:** Please tell me you’re wearin those jeans with the rips in the legs

 **Aid 15:09:** I would really like to see those right now

**reply 15:10:** You may be a little disappointed

 

Dean wonders if everyone can see the grin on his face and how stupid he must look.

**Aid 15:11:** Next time you’re wearing those.

 **Aid 15:19:** Meet me in baggage claim

 

* * *

 

Its true what Dean thought about crowds and Aidan being in them. There’s a bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s wearing the tightest pair of jeans that Dean thinks Aidan probably owns because _Christ._ Dean can barely manage to walk in a straight line, barely manage to not physically push his way past everyone.

 

And Aidan has a smile on his face. Dean has seen it too many times to count but this one is different. This one is for him.

 

* * *

 

The car ride back to Dean’s is filled with manic energy. Aidan won’t sit still. Dean puts his hand in Aidan’s and rests it on the gear shift. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles at Aidan who is looking down at their entwined fingers.

 

* * *

 

Dean is pushing Aidan up against the door the second it is shut. Aidan’s bag is on the ground and forgotten about. His hands are running down Aidan’s body, trying to memorize the muscles in his arms. The way Aidan moans when Dean wraps a hand around the back of his neck and grabs onto Aidan’s hair and _pulls._

 

* * *

 

He wants Aidan to consume him, reach into his skin and pull out his soul.

 

 _“Dean.”_ The way Aidan says his name is like corruption. It sinks into him, works its way through him and rattles his bones.

 

Dean moans into him, pushes his hips up.

 

Its raw hunger. He’s clamoring for it.

 

“Please.” He whispers against Aidan’s lips.

 

Aidan stills his fingers, stops the stretch of muscle. “Beg me.”

 

 _“Please.”_ Its breathy.

 

Dean remembers being taught the word sin when he was younger and the things that were associated with it. The textbook definition of it; immoral act. He wonders how indecent he must look, laying on his back being stretched open and begging. God how he wants nothing more than to sin. No one told him it would taste this sweet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and to all the lovely people that comment. it means a lot.


	10. Statistics and Probability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s like statistics and probability. I don’t want to add up the math.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of just post every time I write something. Sometimes its short, sometimes its not. I like it that way though. I hope no one minds.

“When did you know?"

“A long time ago.”

“Yeah but when?” Aidan is persistent.

“I don’t want to say.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was way before you ever felt anything for me.” Dean is grabbing fistfuls of sheet and feeling the threading. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t know Aid, I would rather not know how long I really was pinning after you.”

Aidan rolls onto his back and sighs.

“It’s like statistics and probability. I don’t want to add up the math.” They’re laying in the dark in bed. Dean figures that Aidan should be tired, he traveled for almost two days and then fucked Dean incoherent. But Aidan still seems keyed up and bursting with energy.

"I'm not talking about love at first sight."

Dean takes a sharp breath at the mention of the word. "No, but you're wanting to know the first time I knew I had feelings for you."

"Yeah, why wouldn’t I want to know that?"

"I don't want to know the truth of it. I'll look like an idiot."

"You always look like an idiot." Dean can see Aidan’s smile even in the dark.

Dean didn't think he was that obvious to read. "It's like there's a variable missing and one day you'll realize there's something wrong with the formula." 

“I just want to fill in the holes in our story.” Aidan sighs. “We were playing video games. Adam was over. I went into the kitchen to grab a drink. I heard you yelling at the game. I looked over to see you with your hands in the air, controller about to fly out of one of them. I know it doesn’t sound like anything grand, or maybe it might not to other people but in that moment when I saw you I thought ‘god, what I wouldn’t give to see that smile every day’ Especially the way your dimples were showing.” Aidan lets out a huff of air, blowing a stray curl out of his face. He’s looking up at Dean with a smile that so bright it could put out the stars.

Dean remembers that day. Remembers watching Aidan from the couch. Remembers Aidan standing in the little kitchen of his trailer and looking at Dean. Dean wonders how he didn't see it before.

“How long had you been flirting with me?” Dean asks now that the conversation has taken a turn.

“Years. I gave up for a while, towards the end of filming. Thought that I was ready to let whatever this was go, that you never had an interest in me. Then you texted me and I thought that maybe I shouldn’t give up quite yet. Then your art show happened, and there was that picture and for a moment I thought I saw myself the way that you see me. Then that other shite happened but that’s not too important right now.” Aidan is waving a hand in front of his face as if to dismiss the whole ordeal in general. 

“It was a rainy day. Had been raining a lot. I was still a little on edge about joining filming late. I think it was really getting to me. All I could focus on was the water against my skin, how it weighed down on the costumes. We were sitting on the grass and you said ‘Look, I think I see the sun.’ I looked at your hand, pointing towards the sky. Past the dark gray I could see the bright light trying to break against the clouds. You saw something I didn’t, I knew then. Knew that I didn’t want to live a day where you weren’t in it with your smile, your laugh. I knew that as long as you were around that I would see the world a little differently.” 

Aidan leans over, looks into Dean’s eyes. They’re searching, and Dean thinks that Aidan has found what he has looking for as his keyed up energy seems to be winding down.

Dean leans up and kisses Aidan softly, can’t resist the plush lips in front of him. “We should go to sleep.” 

“Lucky you tired me out, otherwise I could go for another round.” Aidan lays his head on Dean’s chest. 

“Yeah, well we have the rest of the week ahead of us.”

“We have more than that.” It’s the last thing Aidan says before he finally sleeps.

This is how Dean will remember Aidan. With the feel of his lips on Dean’s skin, creating constellations.

He realizes this is where he wants to make his memories with Aidan. Build a home out of them.


	11. Dark Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wrote you a letter."

“I wrote you a letter.”

 

“A handwritten letter?” Dean is looking at Aidan with curiosity.

 

“Yeah. Er, it was after...it was after you had turned me down.”

 

“Oh.” Dean suddenly doesn’t want to know about this letter. Of the hurt that would be waiting for him scrawled in ink and set to paper.

 

“I want you to read it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s important.”

 

Dean sighs, knows that arguing with Aidan is a losing battle.

 

“Ok, I’ll read it.” His chest aches at the thought.

 

“Well, not now.” Aidan is rubbing a hand across his chin, a habit he does when he's thinking or uncomfortable.

 

“Why not?”

  
“I’m going to put it somewhere in the house and whenever you come across it, that’s when you can read it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who is sticking through with this


	12. The Trouble With Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finds it in his copy of The Ballad of the Sad Cafe. He smiles at this, thinks of Aidan as more of a romantic than he lets on. It's there, resting on the page of Dean's favorite passage. The one he recited to Aidan.

Dean thinks about looking for it. Thinks about tearing his house apart. He doesn’t have a lot of time. Aidan went into town to grab a pack of cigarettes. He taps his fingers against his knee and makes a decision.

 

He looks through a stack of photos he has on his worktop.

 

Looks in his dresser drawers.

 

He finds it in his copy of _The Ballad of the Sad Cafe._ He smiles at this, thinks of Aidan as more of a romantic than he lets on. It's there, resting on the page of Dean's favorite passage. The one he recited to Aidan.

_Dean,_

_When I first met you, I thought that there was a greater purpose for all of it. I know it sounds cliche, but there was a pull. I knew you were meant to be in my life, I just didn’t know exactly where you were suppose to fit in._

_It felt like we could make everything ours._

_We used to have deep conversations, but now everything feels unfinished._

_Your name will never pass my lips again. I’ll never have that nervous laugh around you. I don’t know if you ever noticed it. I always felt like it sounded different from my other laugh. This one happened when you got a little too close, when I could feel the heat of your skin close to mine._

_The smell of the sea, your beat up car, late nights, and early mornings, your hair and how it shines when the sun hits it, airports, train stations. Shoulder to shoulder. The time you put your hands in mine when the wind was blowing. “Aid, feel how cold they are.” I wanted to warm you up. Pull you close._

 

_I guess I won't have to fight that urge anymore._

_Your lips._

_I never wanted anything more than when I wanted to kiss them. I guess I got what I wanted? I kept asking for it and decided to make it happen._

_Of all my reckless mistakes. Could I take that one back? Could I live in a life where we’re still nothing but friends?_

_You were important to me. Are._

_I’m trying to confess something, I just don’t know what it is I’m trying to confess._

_I’m left with these hands that have touched yours. These memories that are filled with you. A blur, colours bleeding together. I want to not know where one of us ended and the other began._

_This is me trying to go forward and not look back._

_I’m not doing a very bang up job of it._

_But we’ll keep this between us, our memories, and I’ll try not to remember the rise and fall of your chest when you would fall asleep next to me._

_You never even knew that I was already yours,_

_Aidan_

  
  
  
  
  



	13. How to Build a Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has the urge to rub a hand on the back of his neck, but feels his fingers stiff and locked inside Aidan’s belt loops. 
> 
> He thinks that this is how you build a universe. You start with carbon, nitrogen, oxygen. Cosmic inflation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider this chapter NSFW

Dean does the only thing he can think of. He writes Aidan a letter. He doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t linger on words. He folds it up, sticks it in between Aidan’s shirts in his suitcase.

 

Dean goes back into the living room, sits on the couch and waits for Aidan to come back. He hears the car coming up the drive, the crunch of gravel underneath tires, and the bass from Aidan’s music rattling the car doors. He hears the car door shut and can hear Aidan’s humming coming in from the open window. Dean stands up quickly and opens up the door before Aidan has a chance to open.

 

Aidan is standing there with raised eyebrows and a cigarette dangling from his lips. Dean is caught in the moment. He keeps his hand on the doorknob as he keeps his eyes on Aidan.

 

Aidan pulls the cigarette from his lips and lets out an exhale of smoke. “You alright?”

 

Dean doesn’t wait, he pushes Aidan against the door frame. The cigarette drops to the ground, tendrils of smoke still emanating from it. His lips meet Aidan’s and its crushing. His hands are running up Aidan’s shirt, feeling the skin underneath.

 

Dean always thought love for him was unattainable, intangible.

 

It is tangible and its pressing up against him, running hands down his back, grabbing at his shirt, and biting his bottom lip.

 

“I love you.” He whispers it against Aidan’s lips, feels it pass out of his lungs.They stand there breathing each other in. He can feel Aidan’s hands shaking against, holding a fistful of Dean’s shirt. Dean looks up at Aidan, to see his eyes closed. For a moment he thinks it was too soon, that he shouldn’t have said it.

 

“Aid, you don’t…”

 

Aidan is already cutting him off, pressing his lips back to Dean’s. He pulls away after a moment, stays close enough that their lips still move against each other. “I want to. It’s just, I always thought I would be the first one to say it and that you would stand there in a panic.” He nervously lets out a small laugh.

 

Dean has the urge to rub a hand on the back of his neck, but feels his fingers stiff and locked inside Aidan’s belt loops.

 

He thinks that this is how you build a universe. You start with carbon, nitrogen, oxygen. Cosmic inflation.

 

“Show much how much you love me and I’ll tell you every single day all the ways that I love you.” It’s quiet, and the kind of romantic that Dean thought only existed in books. Aidan isn’t smiling, his eyes are hard and Dean knows how serious this is. That there’s no going back after this.  

 

He adds in the radioactive heat and electromagnetic force.

 

He grabs Aidan’s hand, tries not to be nervous as he guides Aidan into the bedroom.

 

Dean can already tell this time is different. It’s slower. For the first time he feels like the rest of the world doesn’t matter, that it isn’t out his front door waiting for them with the reality of geography.

 

He lays Aidan down on the bed, stands over him as he tries to take all of this in. He leans down, kisses Aidan’s jaw, works his way down his neck as he works at the button on Aidan’s jeans.

 

Dean gets Aidan undressed and looks at him standing out against white sheets. Aidan’s cock is hard and pressing against his stomach. Dean grabs Aidan’s legs and pulls him to the edge of the bed.

 

He kisses Aidan’s hipbone, sucks the skin there making sure to leave a mark. Aidan hisses out and Dean tries not to smile as he presses Aidan down against the bed. He finishes, looking at the swelling of flesh. Dean places a soft kiss on the mark. Before Aidan has the chance to make a remark, which Dean is certain what he is about to do since he sees Aidan’s mouth opening, he takes Aidan’s cock into his mouth and down to the hilt in one swift movement.

 

“Fuck!” Aidan lets out as Dean moans around his flesh.

 

He lets go of his member with a loud pop. Dean licks a trail down the underside and down to ring of muscle. He works it in slow circles, has Aidan crying out. He pulls away to work in a finger, keeps stretching the muscle. He kisses the inside of Aidan’s thigh as he works in another. By the third finger Aidan is rolling his hips and fucking himself onto Dean’s fingers and crying out.

 

“Dean, fu-fuck! I need, I need…”

 

“Tell me what you need.” Dean whispers it against Aidan’s thigh as he places another kiss, his fingers never stopping their thrusts.

 

“You. I need you inside me.”

 

Dean smirks up at Aidan as he slowly pulls out his fingers.

 

Dean reaches over to the nightstand to open up the drawer but Aidan is sitting up and pulling at Dean’s hand. “No, I _need_ you.”

They look at each other, Dean takes in a deep breath before he pushes Aidan back again and kisses him hard enough to bruise. He sits back, grabs the bottle of lube and slicks himself up. He tries not to moan just thinking about being inside of Aidan. He bites his bottom lip as the tip of his cock pushes against Aidan’s entrance. He gets past the muscle and moans.

 

“ _God_.”

 

“Not really but I can be.” Aidan says back and it’s breathy. Dean glares at him but Aidan has a smirk on his face that could start and stop wars.

 

Dean pushes in as far as he can go to wipe the smirk off of Aidan’s face. It works as he cries out.

 

Dean starts out slow, finding a rhythm and the right angle. Their sweaty and Aidan’s hands are clenching the sheets, pulling them up from the mattress. He finds Aidan’s spot, angles himself to drag his cock along it.

 

“Please….please, please.” Aidan is crying out, arching his back and grabbing at anything he can get his hands on.

 

Dean leans down and presses a kiss to Aidan’s forehead, pushes the hair clingy to him out of his face. “Not yet.” Dean whispers as he kisses Aidan’s lips this time.

 

Dean drags it out, changes his position. Aidan is leaking precum and Dean wipes it with a finger. He places the finger to Aidan’s mouth.

 

Aidan pulls the digit in his mouth, feels the details on Dean's hands, makes a sinful sound as he tastes himself and licks himself clean off of Dean’s finger.

 

Dean groans and picks up the pace, fucking Aidan harder. He lifts up one of Aidan’s legs, lets it rest against his shoulder as he fucks Aidan so hard they move a few inches on the mattress.

 

Dean angles up again, keeps fucking Aidan hard as he keeps hitting his spot repeatedly. He wraps a hand around Aidan’s cocks and keeps his hand in motion with his thrusts. He wants Aidan to come undone, wants to see him fall apart just so he can rebuild him.

 

Aidan comes a few moments later, strings of pearl making stripes across his stomach and on the sheets. Dean is close behind, spilling into Aidan and moaning out his name.

 

He collapses next to Aidan, they’re both breathing heavily.

 

They don’t say anything as they’re coming down but Aidan’s hand finds Dean’s.

 

Dean thinks this is their universe and he thinks to himself _let me name it for you._

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY wrote smut. It only took me 300 years and I have no idea what I'm doing :)))


	14. The Instability of Architecture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he’s with Aidan it feels like he is always on the edge of something. There’s not a name for it, not one that Dean knows of anyway. But if feels it lingering when he’s around Aidan, this wild energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long for an update. I am literally being destroyed by work and i don't have this story planned out so I just kinda post when something pops in my head. God sorry for the inconsistency of it all.

“I like this one.”

 

“What do I need with bamboo Aid?” Dean asks as they walk past a florist shop.

 

“Liven up the house.”

 

“I literally live in the country, I’m surrounded by plants. I’m sure all of New Zealand is actually just one giant plant.” Dean waves his arm around as if he is gesturing to all of New Zealand.

 

“We’re getting it. It says it symbolizes love when the two shoots grow around each other. So you’re going to water it when I’m not around and I can see how much it grows every time I come home.” There’s not protesting, Aidan already has the plant in his hand and is making his way to the checkout.

 

_Home._

 

Dean bounces the word around in his head, how casually Aidan said it. Wonders if Aidan realizes that he said it.

 

He thinks of the word home. The textbook definition of it. Thinks of his definition of it. It’s here, New Zealand. Its big sweeping landscapes, all of his memories are here, laid out into the soil, woven in between the trees.

 

He bites his tongue, feels the taste of copper in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Dean looks at the bamboo now sitting on the table next to the couch. Its in a glass vase and he can see the rocks all throughout the glass. He takes a deep breath and sighs as Aidan pours water in it.

 

“You have to remember to water it.” Aidan is saying as he’s taking the cup back into the kitchen.

 

“I will.” Dean calls after him.

 

He’s bad with plants, bad with things, bad with symbolism. The plant is just a reminder.

 

* * *

 

Aidan is out in front of the house, tossing a ball at Batman who is enthusiastically running after it. Dean can’t help but smile, feel this moment as it sinks in around him. Gold light falling across the grass.

 

Aidan is wearing one of Dean’s sweatshirts, one from an airport he got from a few years ago because he didn’t realize how cold it would be where he was going. The letters are faded and the stitching on the pocket is coming undone in the front. He can’t bring himself to get rid of it, not with how many memories are attached to it. He wore this sweatshirt on set a lot and now he is watching Aidan in it, how it’s too small for him and when he lifts up his arms to throw the ball it shows a patch of skin.

 

It’s another memory to add to his collection. Another star in their sky.

 

* * *

 

Aidan goes to take a shower after being outside. Dean declines in joining him since he isn’t too keen on taking two showers a day.

 

“Your loss.” Aidan shouts as he walks down the hallway to the bathroom.

 

Dean sits at the countertop in the kitchen, editing a photo on his computer.

 

A buzzing noise cuts across the counter and Dean see’s Aidan’s phone light up. Dean looks back at his computer and continues working on his photo.

 

The phone rings again and Dean finally looks at the name on the screen.

 

_Sarah Calling_

 

He feels a tightening in his throat.

 

He can’t focus, is trying to ignore how the vibration feels through the counter top. He looks down at the counter and sees a scratch. It’s from the other night when Aidan was cutting vegetables and Dean told him to use a cutting board. Its another mark Aidan is leaving. He looks between the phone and the mark on the counter and feels like they are one in the same.

 

The phone doesn’t ring again. Dean tries not to look at it. Doesn’t know how to bring it up or even if he should. They never talked about it. About what happened before them and if it should really even matter.

 

* * *

 

When he’s with Aidan it feels like he is always on the edge of something. There’s not a name for it, not one that Dean knows of anyway. But if feels it lingering when he’s around Aidan, this wild energy.

 

“We should get an ashtray.” Aidan says as he flicks ash onto the gravel.

 

Dean hums in response. Trying to choke down this feeling.

 

His hands are trembling lightly against the side of his leg. Aidan puts his fingers in Dean’s, smiles down at him and Dean smiles back up but he is certain it isn’t reaching his eyes.

 

* * *

 

The way Aidan slams his body into Dean reminds him what it's like to be alive. He lets Aidan take him apart, tells Aidan to drag it out. Asks him to make it hurt. Aidan obliges. Leaves marks on Dean’s skin.

 

Dean thinks that maybe it will remind him that he is Aidan’s and no one else is.

 

After when Aidan is asleep Dean tries to focus on things like the word home. The book Aidan bought that is sitting on the coffee table, something about a wall where people write what they want to do before they die on it. The sugar that now sits in the cabinet above the coffee maker because Aidan takes his coffee with sugar. He thinks of the bamboo. Realizes that their building this place around them and he tries to hold onto that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who has been so kind and amazing by leaving a comment. it means a lot to me and i'm so happy that this story is being enjoyed


	15. Guidelines for a Space Program

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean remembers the first time Aidan said his name. The way the vowels sounded in his accent. He remembers for the first time thinking that his name didn’t sound ordinary.
> 
>  
> 
> He feels like he should have known about corruption then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is for durinsprinces. mainly for sending me so many receipts. and because she spawns a lot of agony in my heart.

“Do you think that there’s such a thing as past lives?” Aidan asks as they’re laying on a mess of blankets on the patio.

 

“I shouldn’t let you drink so much.”

 

“I didn’t have that much.” Aidan says but there’s a hiccup at the end of his sentence. “Do you think that though?”

 

“Maybe.” Dean is buzzed, no where near the level that Aidan is at. He’s trying not to think about the phone call Aidan got yesterday. Every thought about it seems to sober him up even more.

 

“I think that we did. I think that in every life I’ve known you.” It’s whimsical, you can hear it in Aidan’s voice, the smile playing on his features.

 

 _Was she in every one of them?_ Dean takes in a deep breath at the thought, feels the ache in his chest take root.

 

Aidan turns to Dean, alcohol heavy on his breath. “You weren’t as stubborn in the last one.” Aidan is smiling, it’s reaching his eyes as if he believes what he’s saying.

 

Dean feels the ache lessen. Wonders how he is suppose to cope with this when that smile is there in front of him.

 

“Maybe I’m stubborn in this one for different reasons.” Dean whispers. Its a confession and he hates himself for it.

 

“What are your reasons?”

 

Dean looks into Aidan’s eyes, hopes that Aidan can’t see what’s there under them. Dean leans into Aidan, pulls his hips flush against his. Aidan moans into Dean’s mouth as Dean tightens his grip enough to bruise and grinds his hips up into Aidan’s.

 

He doesn’t want to think about the phone call, just wants to drown in this. Wants the feeling of gasping for air.

 

Dean lets Aidan fuck him there on the blankets out on the patio, warm heavy air lingering around them. He focuses on the way Aidan says his name with lips pressed against his skin.

 

* * *

 

Dean remembers the first time Aidan said his name. The way the vowels sounded in his accent. He remembers for the first time thinking that his name didn’t sound ordinary.

 

He feels like he should have known about corruption then.

 

* * *

 

 

He knows he’s not the first person to love Aidan, probably won't even be the last. It’s hard not to love someone who seems to force themselves into your life with a winning smile and become a permanent fixture when you weren’t even expecting it.

 

He just wants to be the only one that Aidan loves in return.

 

It’s jealousy manifesting, working it's way through his body like a sickness. They’ve moved into the bedroom and Aidan is asleep with nothing but a thin white sheet covering him.

 

Aidan’s phone is sitting on the nightstand.

 

Dean reaches for it and quickly puts in the passcode.

 

The jealousy is clinging to him the way that static clings to skin. He can feel it lingering in everything he touches.

 

He always told himself that he would never be that person, that he would never go through someone else’s phone. Feels even more guilty that the passcode is his birthday.

 

Dean can feel bile rising in his throat.

 

He locks the screen on the phone and sets it back down.

 

He remembers her too vividly. Her small frame, her serious eyes. Remembers taking a photo of her as she wrapped herself around Aidan in an almost possessive way. He wonders if she saw it back then, the way that Dean looked at Aidan.

 

He gets out of bed. Can’t take the thoughts anymore.

 

He turns on his computer, goes digging through the files. He finds the picture he was thinking of. He see’s the way that Aidan is looking away from her, can sense a discord in them in the picture. It’s the same day that Dean took the photo of Aidan in the hotel hallway. He doesn’t really know why, maybe it brings him some sense of comfort but he posts the photo on his website.

 

He sits there on the main page looking at it. There’s no explanation for it, doesn’t know what people will think of it but he doesn’t really care.

 

It’s his way of dealing with whatever this is.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t go back to bed. Instead he showers and stays up the rest of the time going back through old photos and touching them up in Lightroom.

 

Wonders if this is how it feels to be thrown out of orbit.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Brett 08:38:** Weird choice of picture on your main page

 **Brett 08:39:** Anything I should know about?

 

 **reply 08:39:** No

 

 **Brett 08:41:** You know you can talk to me

 

Dean doesn’t respond.

 

* * *

 

 

“I have to head back a day earlier.” Aidan says it but he’s not looking at Dean, he’s looking down at his phone.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, got some things I need to take care of.”

 

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with that missed phone call you had the other day?” It’s out of his mouth before he knows what's happening.

 

Aidan sighs and sets his phone down on the counter. “You saw that?” His eyes can barely meet Dean’s.

 

“Yeah I saw, was wondering if you were ever gonna tell me about it.”

 

“It’s hard…”

 

“What’s hard? Hiding things from me or talking to your ex-girlfriend? If she even is your ex-girlfriend.” He’s getting on the defensive, knows his words are coming out harsh.

 

“Really? Of course she’s my ex-girlfriend. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. You have to know that.” Aidan is turning wild as he runs a hand a little roughly through his hair.

 

Dean just shrugs, clenches his jaw and tries to bite down a response.

 

“Look, after. After, after you had turned me down I wasn't in the best head space.”

 

“So you went running back to her?”

 

“Fuck Dean can you let me finish?” Aidan is narrowing his eyes.

 

Dean looks away, can’t stand how his heart aches when he thinks of Aidan with someone else.

 

“Before I had flown out to see you the first time, for your showing, when I was still...when I was still with her.” Dean makes a note of how Aidan won’t say her name. “When I came back after seeing you I signed a lease on a place with her. I thought, shite I don't know what I thought. Maybe that it would be a band aid.”

 

He doesn’t have a right to be mad, but he is. They weren’t together then but he can’t stop the spark after it’s been ignited.

 

“Even though we weren't talking I could still feel everything I had felt when we were filming, except more amplified. I could see you in almost everything I looked at. I couldn't look at art, at books. Couldn't even look at the fucking TV. It wasn’t like anything or anyone I had ever been with before. She knew something was wrong, the way I always seemed to avoid anything to do with you. She knew then. She told me she had always known, seen the way I had looked at you at the Berlin premiere. It was bad Deano, she asked me how I could do this to her. I didn’t ask to fall in love with you. She asked me how it happened and I told her I guessed it was the way you made me feel truly alive. Like everything I say is important. How you always seemed to know where I was going to be, almost as if we moved around each other.” Aidan is looking down, moving his hands lightly as if he’s remembering how they used to be.

 

Dean wonders if Aidan ever thought of them as binary, the way that he had.

 

Aidan looks up at Dean, there’s a sadness tinged to his eyes and Dean wants nothing more than to kiss him until it goes away. Instead he reaches out and takes one of Aidan’s hands in his, runs his fingers across Aidan's knuckles.

 

“There’s some stuff I have to get out of the place. I had moved in a few small boxes. I also need to go break the lease. That’s why she called. I have to do it before the first of the new month.”

 

Dean is relieved but also feels like an asshole.

 

“I should have asked. It’s just, I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

 

“Yeah it’s not the easiest subject.” Aidan lets out a nervous laugh.

 

“I guess you were bound to have to go home for a few days.” Dean says to try to lighten the mood.

 

“That’s not home for me.”

 

Dean looks at Aidan confused.

 

“What do you mean? That’s where your home is Aid.”

 

Aidan bites his lower lip and shakes his head. “Home to you is New Zealand, it’s a place. It’s these grand sweeping landscapes, the culture, the people. Home isn’t a place for me, it never has been. Home has always been where the people I love are. That’s what makes a home. You’re home for me Dean, don’t you see that?”

 

Dean doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches forward, grabs Aidan by the collar of his shirt and presses their lips tightly together. He didn’t know how much he needed this. Needed Aidan with all of his profound statements. Didn’t know that this is exactly what his life was missing.

 

“Go take care of what you need to. Just make sure that you come home to me.” Dean whispers it against Aidan’s lips. Aidan pulls back just enough to trail kisses against Dean's jaw and down his neck. One of his hands is working at the button on Dean's trousers. Dean lets out a moan. He wants nothing more than to feel close to Aidan, knows that feeling Aidan inside of him will help. 

 

Dean thinks of the bamboo. The ashtray that Aidan wants to buy. Realizes that Aidan is making this place his home.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god did anyone else think it was fucking suspect that Dean started posting old photos of Aidan on his website. like bruh I know what you're about. Anyways, thanks for reading and commenting! I need to sometime this weekend reread this story and clean up the few grammar errors. oops.


	16. A Brief History of Remnants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finds it after he showers and he’s looking for his worn down Guinness shirt, the one that has the hole in the back towards the collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh this was one of my fave chapters to write.

“Sir, we’re going to need you to turn your phone off.” The airline hostess is smiling politely down at Aidan but it’s already the third time she’s asked him to turn his phone off.

 

“Yeah ok, alright. Sorry.” Aidan is going for the power button on his phone, showing her the screen as it goes to black. She smiles at him one last time before she walks away from his seat.

 

The plane is getting ready for take off and Aidan is bouncing his legs up and down. He tosses his phone between his hands, feeling the heat still coming off of it.

 

He feels _guilty._

 

He knows that Dean said that it was fine, forgave him even but Aidan still feels like shit for how he went about doing all of this. To make matters worse once he had gotten on the plane he decided to go onto Dean’s website, doesn't know why really, just wanted to look at something that was solely Dean.

 

But it's not just Dean, not when Aidan is on the main page of Dean's site and is looking at a picture of himself and Sarah. 

 

His heart started beating in his chest just looking at the picture. He remembered that day very vividly, remembered how Sarah had been off putting to Dean.

 

He never wanted to hurt Dean, never had the intentions for it. But he figures this is how things work.

 

He had been texting Dean while he had gotten on the plane.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Aidan 17:38:** Hey

 **Aidan 17:38:** I was on your website

 **Aidan 17:39:** and I saw the picture that you posted

 

 **reply 17:40:** It was from when I couldn’t sleep

 **reply 17:41** : I guess it was my way of dealing with what was going on

 

 **Aidan 17:41:** I don’t know, I guess that it kind of hurt to see the picture

 

 **reply 17:42:** How do you think that it felt for me?

 

 **Aidan 17:43:** You’re right. I don’t want to fight with you about this.

 

 **reply 17:43:** We aren’t fighting.

 

 **Aidan 17:44:** Ok, good.

 **Aidan 17:45:** What is this then?

 

 **reply 17:45:** I don’t know.

 

* * *

 

That’s when the attendant had kindly reminded Aidan yet again to turn off his phone.

 

Aidan doesn’t know if he’s blowing this out of proportion. Things were fine when he left Dean’s house. Their house. _Dean’s house, definitely Dean’s house_ , he thinks to himself. But when he got to the airport he couldn’t help but feel the melancholy wash over him.

 

* * *

 

 **Sarah 12:37:** I’ll meet you at the leasing office.

 

Aidan doesn’t reply, just shoves his phone back into his pocket and makes his way through the airport to catch a cab.

 

He hates that on this end there is no one here waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

 

“You have a few days left on the place. Everything needs to be out of the house by then.”

 

Aidan nods as he carries his suitcase inside the house. He closes the front door and looks at the cardboard boxes around him. Her scribbled hand writing. Aidan’s clothes. Our kitchenware. He tries not to focus on it as he starts going through the boxes.

 

* * *

 

The only noise in the house is Aidan separating his things and it’s deafening. He’s looking at things he had with Sarah, things they bought together and only feels guilt. He should have ended it sooner. Should have realized it would have never worked after he had kissed Dean.

 

These are the remnants of a star that has exploded and he wants nothing more than to gather up the particles and move on.

 

He narrows it down to three boxes. All of it filled with his things from before her. A few small things from some projects he worked on and that’s it. He texts her and lets her know that she can have everything else. All the furniture, everything they got together. He calls his parents and asks them if they can take the boxes back to their place.

 

They ask him to stay at their house and he politely declines and says he will be over tomorrow for dinner.

 

He remembers how happy she was to be moving into this place with him. Can still hear her laugh as they started moving in furniture and Aidan had dropped a chair. He wonders to himself why he had to hurt two people in this process. Why he couldn't learn to just not be selfish. 

 

* * *

 

Aidan unzips his suitcase, doesn’t feel like unpacking his clothes. They don’t look right here, the colors look muted and it feels off. He zips the suitcase back up and decides he needs to go to a hotel.

 

* * *

 

Hotels are familiar and not filled with particles from explosions. 

 

* * *

 

He finds it after he showers and he’s looking for his worn down Guinness shirt, the one that has the hole in the back towards the collar. A drop of water falls onto the paper as he unfolds it.

 

* * *

 

_Aidan,_

_I’m writing to you because I found your letter that you hid in my book. By this time we’ve already talked about. Hopefully I kissed you hard enough that you knew. In case if I didn’t here’s this. I know my handwriting isn’t the best but my hands can’t seem to stop shaking._

_I could make a collection of things out of you and me. Put them all in a box and explain what each item means. I could put them on exhibit and show you, maybe then you would understand how long I’ve loved you._

_There’s your stupid Guinness shirt, which I knew would be in this suitcase. You can't seem to go anywhere without it. The one that you wore the first time we went out drinking with everyone. Jimmy bumped into me and I spilled some of my beer down the front of that shirt. You laughed and said it was fine, that your shirt had seen much worse. Your smile was bright even in the dim lighting of the pub. I think about that shirt a lot more than I should. The way you smiled at me, I guess I should have known then that you were going to be different._

_I have a ticket stub from a boat ride we took on the Thames. Our knees had brushed against each other that day as the water hit our clothes. Do you remember that?_

_A dried up leaf from a hike we took during filming. You were playing with the stem in between your fingers. When you dropped the leaf on the ground I picked up and put it in my bag. I never told you._

_I never gave you back a pair of socks that I had borrowed. We were in Zurich, I had forgotten to pack mine. I didn’t have time to run out before the premiere so I just borrowed a pair of yours. They sit in a drawer in my dresser on top of all of my other ones. I never wore them again after that.  Do you remember that premiere? It was just you and me. We spent a week in Zurich after that. Sight seeing. We even spent a whole day just in your hotel room watching TV. I didn’t mind. We watched 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' and afterwards you didn’t talk for a while. When you did you told me that you wanted to do something that moved people the same way. I told you that you already had. You just smiled at me but it wasn’t your normal smile. It was forced. I haven’t seen that movie since then I probably never will. You move me constantly Aid._

_A bottle of wine from a vineyard in France that I will never drink because we got it together._

_A napkin from that theme restaurant in London, Tropical Rainforest Cafe, that is across the street from the Queen’s Theatre that always seems to be running performances of Les Mis. You’re a sucker for theme restaurants, something about you that I secretly love._

_A pair of chopsticks from a Chinese restaurant that was also a karaoke bar and we had no idea. We spent the whole night laughing. Someone got up and did a rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” where they tried to sing every single part. You dropped your chopsticks and almost spit out your food. You tried to get me to sing but I was too nervous. Remind me that I still owe you a song._

 

_A hotel key from L.A. You slid down the hallway in your socks. You ran into me and your body shocked me from all the friction. I wanted you to run into me again. Every night after that._

_The camera lens from the first ever picture I took of you._

_I wish I could fit a whole city into the box, I would try to put Boston in there. Instead I’ll put in the tickets from the baseball game we watched. We both had no idea what was going on but we sat there in the sun and talked during the whole game. I learned a lot about you that day. I learned you like a lot of sugar and creamer in your coffee because you don’t want your coffee bitter like your beer. I learned about how you don’t like a lot of fruits because of the skin on them. I learned how simple you like everything. I learned how much you love to tell stories, how you talk wildly and will defend what you believe in. I learned how you bite your bottom lip when you’re thinking. I learned that some of my habits were your habits, like how I like to rest my feet on top of one another while holding onto one of my knees._

_I learned how to feel truly alive. I learned these things with you. How to laugh like no one's watching._

_I guess these things belong to us, we just never knew it._

 

_It’s the beginning of our story._

_Love,_

_Dean_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all of your beautiful words. it means a lot to me. this is honestly like my most favorite thing I have ever written so it feels pretty good when I hear that people are enjoying it so thank you.


	17. Only Exploration can Lead to Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean thinks that he finally knows how to hold on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so for the longest time I had no idea what I was even doing with this story or what I was gonna do with it. But I figured out the ending when I wrote this chapter. So the story will end soon. But it made me realize that I didn't want a giant plot or a lot of obstacles. I just wanted the story of how two people are trying to make a relationship work and I hope that I have been able to convey that. It's why I don't write a lot of details, why I don't describe the color of a chair or a piece of clothing unless it has significance. So yeah some of the chapters are really small but each one is a part of their story and that's all I ever wanted. Maybe I'll try to make one of the last chapters filled with detail. (this might have a sequel that I might have already started that may or may not seem kind of rom comish that I may already be in love with)

“Tell me something.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Something. I don’t know.”

 

“There’s this greek myth.”

 

“What about it?”

 

“It’s the story of Tantalus.”

 

“Is it a tragedy?”

 

“Aren’t they all tragedies? Are you going to let me finish?”

 

“Sorry Deano”

 

“When Tantalus died he went to the deepest circle of hell. It was here that he had to stand in a pool of water underneath a fruit tree. Any time he reached for a fruit the branches would pull away out of his reach and when he would go to take a drink of water the water would recede from him. It’s where the word tantalize comes from.”

 

“That’s a horrible and sad story. Why would you tell me that?”

 

“Cause I think I know how he felt.”

 

* * *

 

They spend their time on the phone. Aidan sighs a lot and Dean tries not to feel the pang in his chest which each exhale.

 

Dean knows he isn’t a greek hero with a tragedy to come but he can’t help but feel sometimes he story was already weaved and Aidan was always meant to be apart of it.

  


* * *

 

Dean sits on the porch to his house and watches as Batman runs around in the grass.

 

This house was supposed to be _his_. A little piece of the world cut out just for him. He laughs at the thought.

 

All he can do is see Aidan in it.

 

Aidan laying on the couch and groaning that there’s nothing to watch. Aidan snoring softly as he’s tangled in the sheets on the bed. Aidan in the kitchen trying out a new recipe and rearranging the cabinets. Aidan and his bamboo plant.

 

He gets up and goes inside, pulls out the deed to the house and looks at the blank spot next to his name.

 

* * *

 

Dean thinks of Tantalus, always reaching and grasping but never being able to _have_. Dean realizes that maybe he isn’t Tantalus, that maybe he doesn’t always have to be reaching for Aidan.

 

Dean thinks that he finally knows how to hold on.

 

* * *

 

“I have an idea.”

 

“Oh really now?”

 

“Do you wanna hear it?”

 

“I always want to hear your ideas.” When Dean says this he means it. He remembers the last time he heard this from Aidan. _I think we should see each other._ And Dean can’t help the smile that is forming.

 

“I think you should come to New York with me while I’m doing press.”

 

Dean thinks of all the complications and implications.

 

He realizes that if Aidan is asking then he’s already thought of these things too and chosen to dismiss them.

 

“Yeah alright.”

 

“Yeah?!” Aidan sounds genuinely surprised and Dean smiles even more at the sound of happiness in Aidan’s voice.

 

“Yeah, might be fun to see the Big Apple again.”

 

“Please, no one calls it that.” Dean can hear clicking coming through the line.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Just finishing up purchasing your ticket. I’ll email it to you.”

 

* * *

 

Dean sits in the airport waiting to board his flight. He thinks of the countless other times he’s done this, the melancholy that used to be attached to it. Didn’t realize how dim and dull everything had truly felt before.

 

He smiles at the thought of being with Aidan in another city. Somewhere else for them to leave a piece of themselves and Dean finds himself smiling at the thought.

 

He wants to scatter their roots across the world, make their own map.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I don't respond to all the comments. Mainly cause I'm always dying over them. Also cause I work insane hours and barely have time to keep up with my tumblr but I do appreciate every single one of them and all of you are amazing for even reading this :)


	18. Conquest of Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean places a trail of kisses up Aidan's neck and to his jaw, it leaves of trail of fire on Aidan's skin. He wants more, but also wants release. Aidan thinks that maybe he understands what Dean was saying about Tantalus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who wrote a decent sized chapter today? me.

The airport is a mess. It’s too big, there’s too many people bustling about. Dean sighs as he tries to find signs to direct him to baggage claim.

**Aidan 13:07** : Where are you? Your plane landed over 20 minutes ago :(

**reply 13:08** : Is that a sad face? Please don’t do that. I can’t take you seriously.

 

 **Aidan 13:08** : :((((( :( :( :( :( :(

**reply 13:09** : I’m on my way, and if you don’t stop I’ll get right back on a flight to New Zealand

**Aidan 13:09** : That’s fine, if you want me to make a dramatic scene in front of hundreds of people. I feel like this is what I’ve been waiting for. All those years of acting have been leading up until this moment.

**reply 13:10** : Idiot. I’ll be there in five. Got a little turned around is all.

**Aidan 13:11** : Oh but I’m the idiot?

* * *

 

Aidan sees Dean first and he wonders if this is how Dean feels when he picks him up. The way his throat seems to close up and his heart feels like it’s pushing against his ribs threatening to break his bones.

He wants to push past everyone, make his way to Dean, grab onto him and never let go.

Instead he does what he is suppose to do, he acts casual. Pulls out his phone and pretends to look at the time. He types out a quick message. He tries not to make it look like Dean is the most important thing in his universe, hopes that all those years of acting have been for something, but when he looks up from his phone and sees Dean walking towards him he can’t help the smile spreading on his face.

* * *

 

 **Aidan 13:18** : God I fucking missed you.

* * *

 

Aidan doesn’t wait till they get to the hotel, doesn’t wait till they even leave the airport. The second they’re in a cab Aidan has his lips pressed against Dean’s. He’s gripping onto the front of Dean’s shirt and practically trying to pull Dean into his lap. Dean is almost ready to oblige when a cough from the front breaks them apart.

“I’m sorry sirs, where are we headed to?”

Aidan lets out a laugh, it’s loud and Dean looks down with red cheeks, looking at the laces on his shoes.

Aidan tells the driver the address for the hotel that he is staying at.

“You can tell me how much you missed me when we get there.” Dean is smirking at Aidan. It’s like a weight has been lifted. Aidan was so worried about what had happened, that Dean would hold it against Aidan, the decisions that he made before they were together but he hasn’t. Instead he hasn’t brought it up again, but he’s here in New York to see Aidan and there’s a smile on his face and that’s all that Aidan can focus on.

* * *

 

“I want you to fuck me.” Aidan whispers it against Dean’s neck.

Dean goes to his suitcase to grab a condom.

“No, I want you close to me.” Aidan says as he grabs Dean by the wrist and pulls him down to the bed.

Dean _understands._ The need to be close. The way he wants Aidan to be apart of him.

Dean spends the night taking Aidan apart. He keeps him on the edge, dragging it out. They’re sweaty and neither one of them wants it to end. They’re teetering on the edge of something bigger.

 

"Don't stop." Aidan's voice is hoarse and his nails are digging into Dean's back. Dean places a kiss on Aidan's collar bone as he thrusts up at an angle. Aidan let's out a moan and starts muttering Dean's name and God only knows what else. 

 

Dean places a trail of kisses up Aidan's neck and to his jaw, it leaves of trail of fire on Aidan's skin. He wants _more_ , but also wants release. Aidan thinks that maybe he understands what Dean was saying about Tantalus. 

* * *

 

Aidan thinks that he would let Dean take him apart and rebuild him every day, shape him into something new, something just for Dean.

* * *

 

“I have the day off, I thought we could check out some museums.”

“I thought you didn’t like stuff like that?”

“I’ll like it if I’m with you.” Aidan says as he places a kiss to Dean’s temple.

Dean will never get used to this.

* * *

 

“This painting is sad. He looks so tormented. What’s it about?”

“It’s called the ' _Achilles Lamenting the Death of Patroclus_.' Achilles was, paraphrasing here, a half god. He was needed for the war against Troy. That there is Patroclus. Historians say Patroclus was his friend but it’s clear that he was much more. Patroclus wasn’t a fighter, but he went with Achilles knowing that he would die for Achilles. During the war Achilles refused to fight. Patroclus put on Achilles armor and pushed the Trojans back but was slaughtered by Hector, the prince of Troy. This is how Achilles found Patroclus. Covered in his armor and blood.”

Dean is looking at the painting still.

“What happened after that?”

“Achilles died, and his bones were laid to rest with Patroclus.”

“Do you think they’re together still?”

Dean turns to look at Aidan who has had his eyes on Dean for the better part of their conversation. He knows that it’s all hypothetical, but feels like there’s something important to this.

“Yeah, I do.”

* * *

 

“Do you still paint?” Aidan asks as he reaches his hand out to a painting, keeps his fingers hovering over the canvas. He looks far off as his fingers mimic the paint strokes.

“I haven’t in a while.” Dean confesses.

“I wish you would.”

“Why’s that?”

“I want to know how the paint would feel under my hands.”

* * *

 

They sit on a bench in the museum. It’s not too crowded, just a few people passing by. Dean can feel the cold stone against his legs. He grips the edge of the bench with his hands as he leans forward, looking around the room at all the different works of art.

It’s quiet, only the sound of footsteps and the opening of maps and brochures fill the gaps of silence. No one pays Dean or Aidan any mind, which surprises Dean. He doesn’t think that they should be recognized because of their professions, instead he finds his hard to believe that people wouldn’t walk in here and see Aidan and wonder if he was a work of art himself.

“It’s nice.” Aidan says and Dean knows exactly what he’s referring to.

Dean smiles at Aidan who is pulling a hand out of his jacket pocket and sliding it across the bench, lifting Dean’s hand and entwining their fingers.

“Yeah, it is.” Dean rubs his thumb in small circles on the back of Aidan’s hand.

They sit there for a while, just watching people walk by. They come up with stories for each person, what their lives are like and what lead them to the museum today. And if people look at the way they’re holding hands they don’t seem to mind.

* * *

 

They’re walking between exhibits when Aidan suddenly turns to Dean and puts their lips together. He tastes of the tangerine he had before they came in, all citrus and sweet. Dean pulls Aidan’s bottom lips between his teeth and bites down. Aidan pull’s away and puts his forehead against Dean’s.

“I love you.” It’s breathy and Aidan has his eyes shut.

Dean wants to collect the words, have them put on a canvas, sculpted into marble, and put in every single room in this museum.

* * *

 

Aidan smiles at him. It’s something he’ll never get tired of. He thinks that if people are made of stardust then Aidan used to be a sun.

* * *

 

Aidan leaves to do an interview for _Poldark_ on a morning show so Dean decides to stay at the hotel and watch.

* * *

 

“You should come.”

“That would be beyond obvious.”

“Who cares? Honestly, everyone can just go fuck themselves and we can just own a farm. I’ve always wanted a lot of animals. Maybe we can get another dog, I bet Batman would like that.”

Dean laughs at this. Imagines Aidan complaining from having to wake up early to take care of a farm. “Just go and I’ll see you when you get back.”

* * *

 

He watches as Aidan fidgets, as he pulls his knee up to his chest, as he lets out huffs of air, as he throws his head back when he laughs. He watches this, and thinks to himself this is how the world see’s Aidan. All full of laughter and animated hand motions.

But he knows that there’s a different side to Aidan, the side that Dean knows. How he knows Aidan by the feel of his hands, the press of his lips, the smell of his shirts, mint and tobacco. The way he takes his coffee, how he gets when he’s in a mood, the way he sulks and complains. Dean realizes he’s glad to have these moments too, the one’s that the rest of the world doesn’t get to see.

Dean smiles to himself, knows that he must look completely smitten and is grateful that he’s in the hotel room alone.

He decides to show Aidan when he comes back.

* * *

 

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Aidan knows that's not the best way for conversations to start.

“I fought it for so long Aid, fought us for so long. I never wanted it to be where you were this other piece of me, that I needed you to be complete. I had this idea, or a preconceived notion, that if I let that happen then I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

Aidan is quiet as he waits for Dean to continue.

“I’ve never been so fucking wrong before. I need you. I need you more than I should but that’s because I want you. . You make me better. You infuriate me sometimes, yeah, but I need that. I need you there to tell me when I’m wrong or that I’m being stubborn. I need you there when I’m having a shite fucking day. I need your smile, your laugh.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I was sitting in the house after you came out here to New York and I realized how much I missed you. It wasn’t the normal kind of missing. It was different this time. I realized that we don’t have anything definite. There’s nothing really to say when you’ll be coming back and I realized more than anything I want you around. I want to wake up in the mornings and see that you’ve stolen all the blankets in the middle of the night. I want to know that you’ll be coming home.”

Home. It lingers there in the space between them. Dean is nervous, he runs a hand through his hair as he glances around the room.

Aidan is sitting down in an armchair in the hotel room, has his elbows resting on his knees. He has his eyes narrowed, trying to work out what is happening.

Dean walks over to his suitcase and pulls out an envelope. He doesn’t say anything, just takes the envelope to Aidan who opens it slowly. He slides out the papers.

Aidan looks at the papers, runs his fingers over the smooth pages. At the bottom he see’s a blank spot where a signature can go right next to Dean’s.

“When did you do this?”

“After you left. I was sitting in the house and I realized that that’s what it was. It was just a house without you in it and I really want for it to be a home.”

“It’s the deed.” Aidan says as he keeps his eyes on the paperwork.

“Yeah. I had it redone. If you sign it then we can get it notarized and it will be ours.”

_Ours._

A simple word. He wonders about it’s origin, how it came to be. Wonders if someone felt what he was feeling right now when it came into existence. He thinks of the textbook definition. that or those belonging to us. For the first time in his life Aidan thinks that a word can have a physical weight to it.

He can see, it feels tangible, something he can reach out and touch. Countless memories. Ours. Aidan wants that, wants to be able to say to people, “That’s our home.” He smiles at the thought. Imagines what it will be like to build this with Dean.

He grabs a pen that is sitting on the coffee table. He’s signed his named countless times and he thinks that none of those times compare to this.

“You aren’t going to think about it?” Dean has an eyebrow raised and Aidan smiles at this.

“There’s nothing to think about.”

Aidan gets up from the chair and makes his way to Dean.

“You seem nervous.” Aidan says as he runs his hands down Dean’s arms.

“It’s not for the reason you’re thinking. It’s not, I’m not nervous because of this, because of us.”

“What is it then?”

“I just never thought that you could want me as well.”

  
It’s brutally honest and Aidan feels like he’s been punched in the throat. He decides then and there that he will show Dean how much his wants him, wants this, that he’ll spend the rest of his days making sure that Dean knows how _important_ he is.

 

* * *

Dean falls asleep first. Aidan keeps his arms around him, pulls him close to his chest. Even in the dark of the room Aidan can see the outline of the deed for the house resting on the coffee table. 

He remembers how Dean started naming the stars and thinks that maybe he should start naming them too. How close all of this was to becoming a _'could have been'_. He places a kiss in between Dean's shoulder blades and think's to himself that this memory will be his north star, leading him home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can follow me on [tumblr. ](killaidanturner.tumblr.com)A little insight into Aidan this time around.


	19. C8H11NO2+C10H12N2O+C43H66N12O12S2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s different.”
> 
>  
> 
> “What is?” Dean asks. They’re sitting on the balcony of the hotel room, their legs slotted through the metal bars on the railing.
> 
>  
> 
> “Being in love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit chapter 19?!?!?! yes. I wont say how many chapters are left of part one cause I JUST DON'T KNOW. I have two more big things that have to happen still so we'll see :)
> 
> TW: blood
> 
> light blood. nothing too serious. also this chapter is kinda NSFW

“Do you remember that time in Dunedin when we got lost?”

 

Dean laughs. “Of course I remember.”

 

“I put in the wrong address on the GPS on purpose.”

 

Dean smiles, can feel the pull of muscles in his cheek. He leans forward and kisses Aidan. It’s soft, he cups Aidan’s chin, can feel his pulse.

 

“Your heart's beating fast.”

 

“I still get nervous around you.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s different.”

 

“What is?” Dean asks. They’re sitting on the balcony of the hotel room, their legs slotted through the metal bars on the railing.

 

“Being in love.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, as actors, we know how to convey it. How we should contort our faces, when to let out heavy sighs. But it’s nothing like how it really is.” Aidan takes a drag on his cigarette.

 

“What’s it like then?”

 

“It’s like, I never liked art. Maybe that isn’t the right way to say it, I never _understood_ it. Couldn’t figure out why people did things like go to museums or see all this hidden meaning in paintings. I just didn’t get it. Then you come along and it’s like I’m finally starting to understand things. I can look at a painting now and see the paint, the different brush strokes and kind of get lost in it. Or I can look at the night sky, see everything that is out there, and feel like I’m connected. Like all these things that I thought didn’t have a meaning now do. When I’m with you I don’t feel like an actor, I don’t feel like what I’m labeled as. But I feel important. You make me feel important.”

 

Aidan takes the last drag of his cigarette, and tosses the bud over the balcony.

 

Dean is already on top of Aidan, pressing their lips together. It’s hard and bruising but Dean wants it to _hurt_ , wants to feel it. He pushes Aidan down onto the hard balcony. His hand is up Aidan’s shirt, lifting up the fabric. There’s debris from the balcony digging into Aidan’s back, leaving marks, competing against the drag of Dean’s nails across his skin. Aidan moans when Dean grinds his hips down and Aidan can feel the break of flesh as something small and sharp goes into his back.

 

It’s inconsequential to what is really happening.

 

Dean bites down on Aidan’s bottom lip and suddenly there’s blood in his mouth. It tastes of copper and salt. He can see the color red when Dean pulls away to look down at Aidan with eyes that remind Aidan of a hurricane. It’s hard to focus on it when Dean has his hand rubbing against Aidan’s already hard cock through his jeans. He can feel the friction, rolls his hips up and feels Dean’s hip bones press against his.

  
  


He has Dean fuck him on the balcony, out where their moans are muffled by the sounds of traffic. They start out there at least, before Aidan is shouting profanities and begging to go inside where Dean can give him _more._

 

* * *

 

They’re laying in the dark, just the light streaming in from the city to illuminate the room. Neon flickers across their skin casting shadows. Dean is sitting up in the bed looking down at Aidan. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls a cigarette out of Aidan’s pack. He grabs the lighter and inhales.

 

Aidan looks at the ember glow as Dean takes in a sharp inhale. It casts Dean in a golden light and Aidan is mesmerized. He thinks of the word masterpiece, how it applies to art. He scrunches his brow as he looks at Dean, really looks at him.  He remembers the museum the day before and the tour guide of a group that had passed them when they were sitting on a bench.

 

* * *

 

“This was a masterpiece…”

 

“Was?” Aidan pipped up, drawing the attention of the tour group.

 

“Yes. Unfortunately during restoration the canvas was torn and is no longer the masterpiece it once was.”

 

“Even if it's a little torn it should still be considered a masterpiece. It doesn’t change what the artist had put into it.” Aidan had his hands shoved in his jacket pockets but he was still moving them around with restricted movements.

 

* * *

 

He thinks of this word again, how easily it was tossed aside for an imperfection. He wonders if Dean knows he’s a masterpiece.

 

Smoke drifts from the cigarette clouding Dean in a gray and orange glow.

 

“I left some marks.” Aidan watches as Dean reaches out and lets his fingers trace over the marks on his back.

 

“I don’t mind.” He can feel the sting as Dean’s fingers touch each line.

 

“I have an idea.” Dean reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a pen out of the drawer.

 

Dean has the pen in his hand, his wrist pressed against Aidan’s skin. He can feel the uneven beating of Aidan’s heart, imagines it as waves coming into the shore.

 

His touches are light, he tries not to touch any of the scratches with the pen.

 

“What are you doing?” Aidan whispers as he feels the cool ink touch his skin.

 

“Mapping out constellations.”

 

Aidan can’t help the smile on his face as he looks back at Dean who is laying on the bed with a look of concentration on his face.

 

“Don’t draw anything funny.” Aidan closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth radiating off of Dean.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

* * *

 

This is how they’ll remember New York, car horns, a city so bright it blocks out the sky, too many voices speaking at once, skin on skin, feel of denim, the color red, muscles and organs, nerves, the definition of love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came really close to putting in a dick joke. I remembered their dumb giggling at Boston Con but I refrained. Thanks, as always, for all the lovely words :) 
> 
> I think this was one of my more fave chapters????


	20. Astronomical Bodies Involved in Stellar Collisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes sure to keep his hands busy, to keep them moving. He paints again. It’s a way to stop the feeling of Aidan’s hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a rule about this story. I only post if there's one part in the chapter that makes me feel like I just got punched. I hope it makes you feel the same <3

He puts up a map on the wall when he gets home. It’s a small map above his computer where he does most of his editing. He sticks a thumb tack in New Zealand, then one in New York, another in Zurich, another one but for Wellington, then one for London.

 

When Aidan comes home he’ll ask him what the map is for and what the pins mean, and Dean will tell him he’s marking the cities where he fell in love with him.

 

* * *

 

 **Aidan 19:41** : I swear Cornwall is an anomaly.

 

 **reply 19:43** : Why’s that?

 

 **Aidan 19:44** : The sun is always shining.

 **Aidan 19:45** : You should come see it. You would love it.

 

* * *

 

It’s exhausting, this back and forth. Dean finds himself staying up at odd hours just so he can talk to Aidan. It’s constant waiting. It reminds him of filming, the sitting around. That’s all acting really is, waiting. So he waits around for Aidan, waits for his calls, waits for his texts. But it’s those moments, when he feels the vibration of his phone, how his heart speeds up  a little bit.

 

He doesn’t let the exhaustion get to him. Doesn’t even really notice how tired he truly is. Knows that their schedules are just a little tight.

 

* * *

 

“How drunk are you?”

 

“It was the wrap up party so I may have had too much.” Aidan is slurring his words.

 

“You sound awful.” Dean yawns as he lays back on his bed, holding the phone loosely and closing his eyes.

 

“I was talking to my mum today…”

 

That gets Dean to sit back up. “Yeah?”

 

“...and she’s having a problem with some ivy growing on the side of her house.”

 

Dean has no idea why Aidan is telling him this.

 

“So I was researching them to you know, see how to stop them from growing so wildly. Did you know that climber plants grow depending on what part of the hemisphere they’re from?” Aidan hiccups after his sentence and Dean smiles as he lays back down on the bed.

“No, I didn’t know that.”

 

“Yeah, they do. If you take one from the Northern and one from the Southern hemisphere and plant them on opposite sides of the equator they’ll grow towards each other.”

 

“Really now?” Dean is knows that he looks like an idiot with a grin on his face but at least he doesn’t sound like Aidan. Slurring his words and talking about plants.

 

“Yeah, or something like that.”

 

“Why is this so fascinating again?”

 

“Because I thought of how we’re from different hemispheres.”

 

Dean laughs. “We’re not plants Aid.”

 

“Think of it like this. I know it’s hard right now, believe me. I miss seeing you. I miss that we don’t have a project together. But think of home as the equator and we’re these plants and that’s where we’re always heading.”

 

It’s insane but it makes sense in a way.

 

“I love you.” Dean breathes out.

 

“I love you too.” He can hear the ridiculous smile in Aidan’s voice.

 

* * *

 

Dean wonders how Aidan became so full of poetry and romanticism.

 

* * *

 

“I really don’t have a lot of time before I start filming series two then it's back off to Cornwall.”

 

“Well what do you want to do about it?”

 

“I thought maybe you can meet me in Ireland, and you know, help me pack.”

 

“Pack?”

 

“Yeah, so I can start moving some things into our house.”

 

Dean smiles. Tries not to focus on the _our_. “Yeah, that would be great actually. But this better not be a way to get me to do all the packing for you.”

 

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it Deano. Oh, also I may have already told my mum you were coming.” He says the last sentence in one breath and so fast that Dean almost doesn’t hear it.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I told my mum you were coming and she wants you over for dinner.”

 

* * *

 

They spend their time on the phone. Aidan has filming and Dean is attending conventions. It keeps them busy but the ache is there.

 

Dean makes sure to keep his hands busy, to keep them moving. He paints again. It’s a way to stop the feeling of Aidan’s hand in his.

 

* * *

 

It’s late when Dean gets a call. Late where Aidan is at least.

 

“It’s 3am, is something wrong?”

 

“I never want to say that I hate you.”

 

Dean pauses, leans against the wall. Tries to make sense of what is happening.

 

“You won't.”

 

“You don’t know that. I don’t know that.”

 

“You won’t.” Dean is quieter this time.

 

“I’ve said it before, to people, when I didn’t mean it. I never want to do that to you.”

 

Dean gets it, he does. The fear.

 

“Even if you do, I know that you don't mean it.”

 

“If, if I ever do, just remind me about the stars. Our stars.”

 

“I’ll count out every single one of them.”

 

Dean thinks he’ll carve out the whole night sky if he has to.

 

* * *

 

It’s scary, the _what ifs._ Dean knows he’s fucked up every good relationship he’s ever had. Terrified that he’ll do the same with Aidan. He just never thought Aidan shared the same fears.

 

He knows that, that if they’re both aware of it that they’ll be able to get past it. Talk it out.

 

That’s how they’ll really be able to _build_ something.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Aidan 18:29** : Have you left yet?

 

 **reply 18:30** : I’m at the airport. It’s not like I’ll appear in Ireland in a minute.

 

 **Aidan 18:32** : I know but it’s nice knowing that you’re on your way. Makes the waiting more bearable.

 

That Dean understands.

 

* * *

 

He wonders if there's this romanticism attached to airports. He thinks of how he felt towards them a few months ago, the panic he had associated with them. Now call he can think of is Aidan.

 

He pulls out the magazine from the seat in front of him as he waits for the plane to take off. He see’s an article listing “Top 5 Airports to Find Love” and immediately closes it. He can’t help but smile though as he thinks of Aidan. Maybe they can make their own list.

 

* * *

 

There’s no delay this time. Dean heads straight to baggage claim. Aidan is bouncing on the heels of his feet standing by the carousel.

 

It’s crowded but Dean can still feel it. The way he’s pulled towards Aidan.

 

Aidan is already pushing past everyone, barely even managing to apologize as he nearly knocks someone over. Dean is standing there in wonder as he watches Aidan moving until he’s practically in a sprint. He’s wearing a faded grey crew neck shirt, Dean’s faded grey crew neck shirt, and his blue jacket is unzipped and coming off of one shoulder.

 

Aidan is almost in front of him, when Dean starts to speak. “I didn’t realize you took my shirt…”

 

He doesn’t finish what he was going to say.

 

Aidan is pulling Dean towards him, wrapping a hand in Dean’s soft hair and pulling him flush against him with his other.

 

Dean’s eyes widen as Aidan’s lips are on his.

 

He feels frozen. He wants to meld into Aidan but also wants to push him away. He can practically feel the stares that are on them. He has to make a decision and quick. He thinks if he pushes Aidan away that it might just make the situation worse.

 

Dean thinks of stellar collisions. The science of them, how they only happen in our galaxy about once every ten thousand years. He think's that this is another one. Two stars melding together. 

  
Dean is leaning up into Aidan, moving their lips together. He closes his eyes but he can still see the flash of a camera behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!


	21. The Art of Feeling Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re not gods. The way their limbs move, how the muscle stretches under skin, the way they want to devour and consume. They’re more like animals, uncaged and untamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was super fucking hard so I'm just posting it

Dean feels for a moment that this isn't his life. That he's watching all of it happen to someone else.

 

He feels disconnected.

 

Wonders if this is how astronauts feel when they're out there with only a tether to hold them in place.

 

There's another _click_ of a camera and Dean pulls away.

 

He doesn't know what to do. He's standing there looking at Aidan and he knows there is fear in his eyes.

 

Aidan stands there in shock for a moment before he has Dean’s hand in his and he’s pulling him through the airport away from everything.

 

He tries to focus of the weight of Aidan’s hand in his.

 

 

* * *

 

It isn’t enough.

 

* * *

 

The air in the car is thick. Dean feels like he can’t breathe, he thinks about rolling down the window but the window brings with it a certain veil of safety.

 

Aidan is driving, his eyes glancing over to Dean.

 

It’s the few minutes before a storm. The air around them is buzzing with it.

 

His knuckles graze across Dean’s palm, feeling of warm skin on skin, residual embers. Dean pulls away, puts his hands between his thighs. He can feel Aidan looking at him but he keeps his eyes focused on the window.

 

All of his memories with Aidan in the car have been good ones. He takes this one, this one filled with dislocation and a scared wild energy, marks it down as a deviation from their normal pattern.

 

Aidan’s hand clenches the gear shift, his knuckles turn white. Dean focuses on this until his vision blurs.

 

* * *

 

Dean wonders if it’s possible to actually _feel_ gravity.

 

He remembers once when he was younger, and he tried swimming to the ocean floor. The water was dark and the salt burned his eyes but he kept swimming down further and further until he felt a weight on his chest and pressure in his ears.

 

He thinks that this is a lot like that.

 

* * *

 

“Dean, I’m-”

 

“I swear to fucking God if the word sorry comes from your fucking mouth next I will leave this house right now.” Dean places his hands on the dining room table. He wants to clench his fists, feels anger working it’s way through him.

 

Aidan clenches his jaw. Dean looks at him, really sees the panic and frustration radiating off of Aidan. Aidan can feel tears stinging his eyes. He looks down at the ground and tries to take a deep breath.

 

“If you would just talk to me.” Aidan is saying the words slow, trying to get them out. The urge to shout at Dean is bordering on manic.

 

“Talk?! Oh fucking brilliant. Yes, if you would have just talked to me before hand we could have avoided all of this!” Dean is pacing around the small space. He lets out a breath and tries to pretend that the walls aren’t closing in on him. His mind is a whirlpool. He can barely pull a coherent thought together to focus on. His mind keeps going to articles that are going to surface online with a photo of them together. 

 

“Look-” Aidan’s voice cracks.

 

It’s enough to pull Dean back.

 

“Look, I know I fucked up alright.” He can barely get the words out.

 

Aidan can’t bring himself to look at Dean but Dean can see the red eyes and the tears threatening to spill out.

 

“Fuck, it’s just so fucking hard. I know it must be for you too, but it’s killing me, it’s literally killing me Deano. I’ve been here in Ireland for only a few days and it was already too much.” Dean has never seen Aidan this vulnerable.  “I just, I don’t care what happens to me and I guess I should have talked to you about that before I outed us. God is that even the right fucking thing to say?” Aidan is running a hand through his hair, trying to push it back out of his eyes.

 

Dean feels as if he lungs want to collapse and his heart give out.

 

“Yeah, I wish you would have talked to me. It’s gonna be a shite show Aid.” Dean is making his way over to Aidan, his steps slow and careful, almost like approaching a startled animal.

 

“I get it. You can hate me, stay mad at me as long as you want but just don’t-” Aidan closes his eyes, barely manages to whisper the last words, “-don’t leave me.”

 

Dean is in front of Aidan now, pulling Aidan’s hands into his and traces small circles over his knuckles with his thumbs. “Is that what you think? That I would leave you over this?”

 

Aidan is quiet.

 

Dean lets out a small laugh and Aidan looks at him with knitted eyebrows. He grabs Aidan’s by the chin, pulling him down to him. He kisses Aidan tenderly. He can taste Aidan’s tears on his tongue. It tastes nothing like having his blood in his mouth. It tastes better than victory, and suddenly Dean is hungry for it, can’t get enough of the taste. He’s pushing Aidan up against the table.

 

They’re desperate for it, for each other. Aidan is unbuttoning Dean’s shirt when he breaks away.

 

“I won't leave you. I’m pissed but it’s fading. We’ll get through it.”

 

Dean's hand is already on the front of Aidan's jeans as he palms his hardening cock. 

 

He figures the world is already pitted against them and there’s nothing left to lose.

 

* * *

 

They’re not gods. The way their limbs move, how the muscle stretches under skin, the way they want to devour and consume. They’re more like animals, uncaged and untamed.

 

“Tear me apart.” Dean whispers it against Aidan’s neck as he’s clawing to get their clothes off. He wants to be nothing left but bone.

 

Fingers, too skilled fingers are working him open. His hands are buried in thick soft curls.  Aidan’s warm mouth is on him and it’s all he can focus on, being ruined with just the touch of a hand.

 

* * *

 

They’re laying in the dark.

 

“How pissed are you still?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

Aidan turns on his side at this to face Dean.

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s like this quote from Van Gogh.”

 

“Oh please do enlighten me.” He can hear Aidan’s smile.

 

“I’m not going to tell you if you’re going to tease me.”

 

“I do really want to know.”

 

“ _Love makes one calmer about many things, and that way, one is more fit for one’s work_. Or something like that.”

 

“I’m glad that he can be known not just for his paintings but also fixing relationships.”

 

Dean reaches out in the dark for Aidan and grabs his hand, brings the knuckles to his lips and places a kiss. “Our relationship wasn't in turmoil. Our careers might be though. I’m not mad anymore because it was hurting you, and I never want you to hurt like that. I never want us to be the cause of your pain. If this, if this whole press thing happens and even if I just go to photography and you just, I don't know, get some sheep to remind you of Ireland and that's how we happen to live the rest of our lives then that's what I want if it means that you're happy.”

 

Aidan is on him, putting their lips together. Murmuring _I love you_ into Dean's skin. 

  
Dean thinks of the cosmos. The vast intricacy of how the universe is put together.  When he’s with Aidan he feels connected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapters after this one will continue to deal with what happened at the airport. this just covered them. I felt that it was important to make sure they were on the right path before I brought in the shit storm that is the media.


	22. Interlude for a Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not perfect, and Dean knows that it wont be easy but he thinks that this is how it was supposed to happen. This is just a storm that they have to weather and Dean knows how the sky looks after a storm, how it always seems to be beautiful and filled with color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> media, meDIA, MEDIA. ALSO: NSFW chapter. TW: choking. I don't know how this chapter led to porn????

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

Dean runs his hands over his face. It was worse than he thought. He can barely stomach to look at his phone. He ignores all the missed calls, the flooding of text messages. He see’s a few congrats thrown in there, along with I always knew you two were together! He has a call from his publicist, multiple calls. He groans as he turns the screen on his phone over.

 

He always knew that this was a possibility. It’s not the fact that he’s out, that is bothering him. It’s the fact that this aspect of his life will never be private to him again. That the world he’s created with Aidan could possibly never be just them again.

 

* * *

 

“It’s not that bad.”

 

“Aid, it’s horrible.”

 

“At least no one has actually used the photo of us ' _passionately swapping spit'_  yet.”

 

“Yet.”

 

* * *

 

“Have you called your publicist yet?”

 

“No and I don’t plan to.”

 

“Why? I already called mine, maybe they could talk to each other? Work on a statement together?”

 

“The statement should just be telling everyone to fuck off.”

 

* * *

 

“Why are you handling this so well?”

 

“Because you’re by my side.”

 

Dean hates Aidan’s smile sometimes. It’s too perfect and makes Dean forget his problems.

 

* * *

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

There’s a pause. “What makes you think that I’m thinking?”

 

“You’re sitting at your computer with Lightroom open but you haven’t touched anything in minutes.”

 

“I was daydreaming.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Forever.”

 

Aidan gets up from the couch then and walks over to the desk that Dean is sitting at. He grabs Dean by the shoulders and spins him around on the chair so they’re facing each other. Aidan doesn’t hesitate, leans down and presses their lips together.

 

Aidan is rolling his hips, causing friction and tangling his hands in Dean’s hair.

 

Dean is already unbuttoning Aidan’s jeans, his hand slipping past the denim to wrap around Aidan’s hard cock. He twists his wrist to get a better angle and starts slow but rough strokes. Aidan moans into Dean’s mouth which just urges Dean to move faster. He’s biting Aidan’s bottom lip and then telling him to bend over the desk.

 

He doesn’t bother taking his pants off completely, lets them pool around Aidan’s ankles. He runs a hand up Aidan’s thigh, feels the heat radiating off of him.

 

“You going to take all day Deano?”

 

Dean slaps Aidan’s ass, causing his hand to sting and a red mark to start forming. Aidan cries out in pain.

 

“I’ll make it last as long as I want.” Dean brings down his hand again the in the same spot, causing the skin to welt. He slowly works Aidan open, one finger at a time, going down to the last knuckle. He stretches the muscle, curls his fingers and finds the spot that makes Aidan cry out. He keeps teasing him, pushing his fingers in and out. Dean bends down and kisses at Aidan’s thighs while his fingers keep up their relentless movements.

 

He gently bites down on Aidan’s thigh as he pulls his fingers out with a satisfying pop.

 

He positions himself behind Aidan, enjoys how he feels like he is in control with Aidan keening underneath him. He pushes himself in slowly and lets out a low moan of the feel of Aidan’s warmth around him. Dean begins rocking his hips back and forth in a slow rhythm as he moves his hands up Aidan’s sides to his shirt to lift it off of his head. Once the shirt is off Dean takes in the site of Aidan’s back, how the muscles move under his skin, the feel of his shoulder blades under Dean’s hands.

 

He focuses on this, the way Aidan moves. How his skin feels when it’s hot, how it reacts to Dean’s touch. He moves his hands up Aidan’s back as he starts to wonder how they would feel around his throat.

 

His fingers ghost across the skin, he hesitates for a moment wishing that he could see Aidan’s face to gauge his reactions. He lets his fingers hover as he picks up his thrusts, making them harsher and more rapid. He rests his fingers around Aidan’s throat, can feel him swallow underneath them. Dean fucks Aidan harder at this causing Aidan to moan. He can feel a small vibration from it and Dean groans at this, his hands involuntarily tightening.

 

He quickly loosens his grip as he realizes what he was doing, slowly down his thrusts as he does so.

 

Aidan’s hand is on top of his and placing it back around his neck.

 

“I want you to.” Aidan breathes out quietly.

 

Dean completely stills. “Are you sure?”

 

Aidan nods his head in a yes motion as he keeps Dean’s hands around his neck. He applies pressure, tries to find the right amount. When he feels Aidan’s pulse under his hands he decides that’s what he was looking for. He keeps his grip tight as he fucks Aidan, angling himself so his cock hits his prostate. It only takes a few more thrusts before Aidan is letting out surpressed moans and cuming on the table.

 

Between the vibrations from Aidan’s moans and the feeling of his pulse Dean is relentless on his final few thrusts before he is cuming into Aidan.

 

Dean collapses onto Aidan’s back pushing Aidan into his mess on the table.

 

“You’re cleaning me off now.”

 

Dean kisses between Aidan’s shoulder blades.

 

* * *

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I knew you needed to feel in control.”

 

“You’re ok with what happened?”

 

“More than ok. I may have even enjoyed it a bit. I was already plotting out what I should do next in order to cause this reaction again.”

 

Dean throws a pillow at Aidan. “Arsehole.”

 

* * *

 

 

It's not perfect, and Dean knows that it wont be easy but he thinks that this is how it was supposed to happen. This is just a storm that they have to weather and Dean knows how the sky looks after a storm, how it always seems to be beautiful and filled with color. 

 

He realizes that he loves Aidan when he's more brilliant and brighter than the sun, and that he loves him when he's a violent storm. But mostly he loves him for the way he always seems to know what Dean needs.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear i didn't spend time on making fake news articles.... DISCLAIMER: I am not a journalist and I'm sorry if the titles were lame. Ok I think I know how it led to porn. I think someone needed to feel in control. Consent. Isn't it nice? Yes. Also this is because durinsprinces sent me AiDean choking today when I was at work and i was like yes choking I need this in my fic, so thanks Raven. I'm sorry if this felt like a deviation from normality.


	23. Hole in the Sky, Tear in the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m just trying to understand.”
> 
> “Understand what?”
> 
> “They way that you drown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried when I wrote this chapter.

Dean gets up before Aidan and takes a shower. His muscle feels like it’s made from knots and his skin is filled with thorns. He feels like he’s gone to war.

 

He spends more time in there than he needs to. He lets the hot water hit his back and lets his eyes focus on the way the water falls from body. He stands in the water until his skin turns red and muscles aches from the water pressure.

 

There’s still a worry, etching itself between his ribs.

 

He just never wanted to share what he has with Aidan with the rest of the world.

 

When he gets out he see’s I love you written in the steam on the mirror.

 

He smiles at this and wonders when Aidan snuck into the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

“I’m just trying to understand.”

 

“Understand what?”

 

“They way that you drown.”

 

“I just get lost in my thoughts sometimes.”

 

“I know.”

 

They both always feel like they’re gasping for air.

 

* * *

 

They drive.

 

They wait for the cover of night and get in Aidan’s old beat up car that he hasn’t had the heart to get rid of. They drive out of Dublin and Dean watches the city lights fade in the rearview mirror. He puts his hand on top of Aidan’s as it rests on the stick shift. His knuckles feel like mountains and the ridges in his skin canyons. Dean envisions himself painting landscapes of bone and flesh.

 

* * *

 

“When I’m under the night sky like this it’s like I can feel a burning.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Our memories. For a while I considered them ghosts, and even started to wonder how many of them I had altered in my mind. It helped to attach each memory to the sky. I felt like there was a purpose for it. For the first time in a while I had felt something ripping away at the very fabric of who I am. pulling at the seams and catching fire.”

 

“They weren’t altered.”

 

“Not one of them?” They’re sitting close enough that even in the dark Aidan can see the blue of Dean’s eyes. He wonders when it became his favorite color.

 

“Well maybe the one about the tiki bar in Manchester. You left out the part where you stumbled over to another table drunk and started talking to them because you thought they were your friends.” Aidan is grinning at Dean. It makes him thankful for Aidan’s wide smiles, that they are never tight lipped and always reach his eyes.

 

He thinks that Aidan is a flower blooming in winter, fighting against cold and decay.

 

Dean leans forward and kisses Aidan. His tongue slides into Aidan’s mouth and he feels the inside of his cheek. Everything feels raw. Dean always thought that words could be sharp but skin has it edges too.

 

They fuck on the hood of the car.

 

They watch the stars fade and the sun break over the horizon. Orange bleeding up into blue. The way the sunrise looks like a fire burning a whole city.

 

They stay here, out here where it’s dark and they’re veiled. Then in the morning they’ll go back to that place where everything feels like it has sharp edges and they’re blinded from nuclear bright lights.

 

* * *

 

It’s consuming, what they have. Dean figures their only saving grace is that it’s the both of them.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me something.” Aidan is leaning on Dean’s chest in the afterglow.

 

“You hate the color red because of how it bleeds. You washed a red shirt in with your other clothes once and saw how the fabric stained everything around it. You hate it because when you eat strawberries your fingers and lips are red after.”

 

Dean doesn’t hate the color red. When he thinks of red he thinks of their time in New York, thinks of broken skin, ichor, and words whispered between moans.

 

* * *

 

There’s already an article about how they’ll destroy Dublin. Aidan rolls his eyes when Dean shows him, shoves a piece of toast in his mouth and reminds him about how a few Catholics shouldn’t matter, that a majority of the country voted in favor of same sex marriage.

 

But Dean wonders if they’ll ruin cities, with their blood like gasoline and fingertips like matches.

 

* * *

 

“I just wish that people didn’t call it wrong.” Dean lets out what's bothering him as they're sitting at the kitchen counter. He closes his laptop, shutting off the blue white glow.

 

“It’s not wrong to be with someone who makes you feel like you’re home.”

 

“Yeah well try telling the press that.”

 

“I will.”

 

Dean looks over at Aidan with a worried face. He knows that Aidan is unstoppable once he has put his mind to something. “What are you planning on doing?”

 

“Maybe we should release that statement.”

 

* * *

 

_Everyone who is a cunt should just sod off._

 

“I don’t think we should send that out as a statement.” Dean is holding up the paper in his hands and trying not to smile.

 

“I thought it was beautiful.”

 

“That’s because you’re Irish.” Dean kisses Aidan’s temple but he folds up the paper and puts it in his back left pocket.

 

* * *

 

They release a statement.

 

* * *

 

_We won't apologise. I won’t sit here and type this out to give anyone the gratification of thinking that I am even remotely ashamed because I’m not. I will have to spend the rest of my life knowing that people are looking at me differently. No matter what city I go to, there will always be stares and whispers. That doesn’t matter to me, what matters is that I know I have somewhere to go home to with someone who loves me. We ask that our privacy is respected at this time in our lives and focus instead on our craft and upcoming projects._

_Aidan Turner and Dean O’Gorman._

 

* * *

 

Dean thinks that he was rebuilt from ash and ruins. That there is a new architecture for his bones, new maps for his veins.

 

“My mistakes have made me love you more.” He says it as they’re packing up the last of Aidan’s things and making sure all the boxes are properly labeled. It's an omission.

 

“I never thought that you would forgive yourself.”

 

“It took a long time but you’ve helped.”

 

"When I first tried to tell you how I felt, it's like you were looking for something and running away from it all at once."

 

Dean just nods his head in agreement. It hits too close to the ache in his chest. 

 

"You've stopped running."

 

"You gave me a reason to stand still."


	24. Stellar Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m a canvas that you’ve restored, thrown your colors onto it and called it a masterpiece._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a majority of this chapter but I did have two guest authors that I requested to write snippets for me for this chapter because I adore their writing so much and wanted a piece of them in my story. I'll say who it was and who wrote what at the end.

“I wrote them down.”

 

“Wrote down what?”

 

“Our memories”

 

* * *

 

Caelum - The Sculptor’s Chisel - _You look in the mirror a little bit longer in the mornings. You told me you hate the lines by your eyes. They’re permanent now, a fixture etched into your skin. I run my fingers across them in the moments when you don’t like them, to remind you how much I love them._

_Your front teeth are a little crooked. Sometimes I wonder if anyone notices. You said that you hated it when you were younger, but now you don’t mind smiling as much._

_I hate smiling in photographs, prefer it if other’s don’t smile. I don’t mind it when you smile though. I guess you’re my exception._

 

* * *

 

  
  


Telescopium - The Telescope - _ You left an apple core in my trailer once, along with an empty bottle of beer. I kept them where you left them for three days. I let the apple core rot, turn brown until the sickly sweet smell became too much for me to handle. I kept them there because I wished you had stayed. I think I looked at it a little too closely, looked at you too closely and tried to distort the image._

 

* * *

  
  


Crux - The Southern Cross - _I waited for you in Zurich. It was a different kind of waiting. Not the kind of waiting that we do now. I picked you up from the airport. I was nervous, I didn’t know if you could tell. We spent a week there after the premiere. A week where I could have said something, a week where I could have done things differently._

_It was here where I said your name in the airport, when I called out to you, I realized how important your name is. It was suddenly there between us, shared between our lungs, in my exhales and your inhales. Then it was there in the silence, at the end of a pen, fibers in paper, on the tips of tongues. Your name sounds differnt through audio, remnants of static clining to it. Your name like fingertips trailing across skin, breath on the back of my neck. I wanted to say your name until it was the only thing I could remember._

_We gave each other nicknames. Names of importance. I call you Shamrock when you’re being over the top irish, and you call me Kiwi when I’m being too polite._

_I was tired from the jet lag and you squuezed my shoulder, called me Deano, and threw your brilliant smile my way._

_I looked at the way you signed your name a little differently after that._

 

* * *

 

  
  


Ophiuchus -  _I read that the sun travels through this set of stars. It reminded me of when I first met you. I guess I felt like you were the sun, and you were on a path. I just didn’t realise we were meant to collide._

  
  


* * *

 

 

Gemini - _Your birthday two years ago. You complained about the cake, you always find a reason to complain. You had a bit of frosting on your nose. I still have the picture in my phone. We went out that night with a lot of the cast. It was hard to get your attention, everyone wanted your attention that night.  We stood outside your trailer. I could smell hops and wheat rolling off your tongue. You were slurring your words. I wanted nothing more than to grab you by your hair and push my lips against yours._

 

* * *

 

Pyxis - _We got lost in Dunedin. It was before we were even together. You got mad, stormed out the car and off towards the lake we'd stopped by. It was the first time I'd seen you like that; angry and untamed. You'd never been more beautiful to me. You stood against the water, breath misting in the freezing air. I still remember the shapes of it. The winter landscape was nothing next to the fire of your frustration, a dull and flat background to the vibrancy you always project. I took your photo when you weren't looking. I wanted to remember you like that; wild and free with nothing holding you back. No composure or pretence._  
  
 _I tore the photo in half the day after we got together._

 

* * *

 

 

Ara- _It means the altar. I had a dream about us once. I probably shouldn’t say any more than that._

 

* * *

 

 

Pictor - The Painters Easel  - _When you asked me if I still painted. I hadn’t since before we were together. I guess I lost what had inspired me. I remember getting my art show together, the one that you came to. I guess in a way I was doing it for you._

_I remember the way your laugh sounded when you first heard the term pièce de résistance when we were at a museum together. The way the sound echoed off the walls and everyone turned to look at you._

_I’m a canvas that you’ve restored, thrown your colors onto it and called it a masterpiece._

 

* * *

 

  
  
Horologium - The Clock - _In the beginning I was so worried about time. Worried about what time it was where you were. I measured everything. Counted my days in seconds. Now I measure them in moments. I thought that what we would be is collateral damage. I’m glad I’m being proved wrong._

 

* * *

 

  
Phoenix – _When I first met you, something inside me told me that you were someone I would love. And that you could love me too. I think that you knew it too, deep down. At least, I hope you did. I wanted to ignore it. Didn’t want to ruin what we had and trade it for what it could be. I didn’t know if it was worth the trade. Worth the price. Worth losing you over it.  
_

 

_But it burned hot inside me. This feeling of desire and need, far greater than anything I could even hope to fight off._

 

_It started as small embers on kindle._

 

_Not enough to keep me warm, but move too close and it could burn me all the same._

 

_But I was cold. I was so cold and you were like the first ray of sun after a far too long winter._

 

_I couldn’t stop myself. I moved to close._

 

_I got burned._

 

_The embers had become flames and they licked at my bones from the inside out. Every touch you left on my skin was agony. Every word you branded into my mind was like words in a book I was always writing. So I could always remember you._

 

_It built like wood on the fire deep in me._

 

_And I told myself, that no matter what, this couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let this happen._

 

_But the fire burned bigger, brighter, and so, so much hotter._

 

_It turned my bones into cinder and ash as it began to consume every part of my life._

 

_And when I thought I could take no more, there you were. Overnight bag in tow, hair tousled in that perfect way I’ve loved since it grew back in during filming._

 

_I had hoped the passage of time would quell the fire until all that was left was the scorched earth beneath it and that lingering smell of campfire left in your hair and clothes and all over your skin. That smell you always complained you couldn’t wash out._

 

_Just as I could never wash you out of me._

 

_“I wanted it to be a surprise. Plane got delayed.”_

 

_That was all it took._

 

_The inferno was reborn even bigger than before. A firestorm fanned by your words and your smile._

 

_“I’d like that.”_

 

_And that kiss. It. I couldn’t begin to describe it. Begin to describe how my whole body blistered and scorched at the feeling of your lips on mine._

 

_I could take no more._

 

_I could no longer hold this fire within me._

 

_I burst into a blaze of flames like a phoenix as you kissed me back. And it was all I ever wanted. All I ever needed. And as I tried to fight through the smoke, realized it was all I could never have._

 

_Like it had consumed me, I knew it would consume you too._

 

_I had to save you, Aid. I had too. You’ve got to believe me when I tell you that the words I said that night were never meant to hurt you._

 

_But they did._

 

_The door slammed shut, leaving you on the wrong side._

 

_And just like a phoenix I died in the flames that night._

 

_And I thought, maybe, that we could be done with it then. When that fire finally burned out._

 

_But from that pile of ash that you left me in, my love for you was reborn again._

 

_And I knew, just like a phoenix, it could never truly die._

 

_I will always burn for you._

 

* * *

 

 

Corona Austrina - The Southern Crown - _Look up._

 

* * *

 

 

“What is this?”

 

“A painting.”

 

“Well obviously.”

 

“You asked me if I still painted. Well I do.”

 

“It looks like the stars outside our house.” Aidan is leaning forward, his hand hovering over the canvas.

 

“It is, or at least the best I could make of it. I had to research the position of the stars. I gave up after a while and just spent a few nights outside painting in the lamplight while I waited for you to come home.”

 

Aidan is running his fingertips across the canvas, tracing the colors, the pattern of the brush strokes and how the paint is heavier in some places. How the blues bleed into one another. Flecks of white shaping the constellation. He tries to figure out how many shades of blue are on the canvas, starts mentally counting them. Sapphire, Indigo, Cerulean, Azure, Cyan. Aidan feels for a moment that all of this is endless. 

 

“I think blue is my favorite color.” Aidan whispers it as he continue to look at the painting. He imagines Dean concentrating on the art, wooden brush between his hands. He wants to see him covered in paint and lost in his work. 

 

“I think it’s mine too.”

 

* * *

 

Aidan hangs up the painting above their headboard in the bedroom. It’s the only piece of art in the bedroom and Dean likes it that way.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pyxis was written by the very lovely and talented [pyxis-142](http://pyxis-142.tumblr.com/) and Phoenix was written by the equally lovely and talented [durinsprinces.](http://durinsghosts.tumblr.com/) Check out their fic [Against the Current. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4336316)


	25. Integrating Astronomy and Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you have the time tonight for me?” Aidan is smirking as he asks it.
> 
> “I have every night for you.” Dean can’t help but smile as he says it.

 

He remembers his first few weeks on set and the way his eyes always seems to follow Aidan around. Jimmy had seen the way that Dean was looking at Aidan.

 

“Be careful.” Jimmy had said as he kept his eyes on Aidan’s disappearing form.

 

“What?” Dean asked startled, pulling him out of his daydream.

 

“You look like you’re about to fall in love.”

 

* * *

 

There’s a word that he is looking for, about why he fell in love with Aidan.

 

The word he is looking for is inevitable.

 

* * *

 

Dean thinks it's not the same, this love. He thinks about what he thought it was, the in betweens, the loves that now feel like rust, something old and slowly decaying. He remembers the first boy he fell in love with, with sun bright hair and kind eyes. How they held hands after school under the shade from the swinging trees.

 

He remembers Sarah, his Sarah, how he loved her gently, always as if she might break. He remembers her smile in the mornings and her delicate skin rubbing circles on the back of his hands. The way she clinged to memories, of things that didn’t go right. He remembers her kind moments and her dark moments in a blur, how they swirl together and it’s hard to pull out one memory from the other.

 

He remembers leaning in for a kiss and how she smoothly turned her head away so he caught her cheek instead. Petal soft skin against his chapped lips. He had pulled back and looked at her, waiting for an explanation. The explanation didn’t come after that incident. She let her walls build.

 

He remembers her vengefulness, her spitefulness and her anger. He remembers after the Berlin premiere how she didn’t talk to him for almost a week. How she yelled at him, her cutting words.

 

“You love him.”

 

“I don’t, you’re reading into things wrong.”

 

“You look at him differently than you look at me.”

 

Dean was silent.

 

“It’s true isn’t it? I haven’t made you happy in a long time.”

 

“Don’t make me answer this.”

 

“What you aren’t saying is more telling.”

 

“Is that what you want? Would it make this easier? For me to say that you don’t make me happy?”

 

“You just act like it doesn’t bother you, when it's obvious that I’m not what you want. How long are you going to lie to yourself and string me along in the process?”

 

He bit his tongue and swallowed the blood.

 

* * *

 

He thinks of the word love, tries to remember who taught it to him. He doesn’t know how the word came to be, who the first person to say it was, or if he had read it. He just knows he wasn’t taught that it could be used to hurt, could be used as a weapon.

 

He thinks of Aidan and smiles. With Aidan the word is always on the tip of his tongue, resting in his fingers, in the steps he takes and at the ends of his hair. He didn’t fall in love with Aidan the same way. It was with recklessness and restraint, an agonizing fall.

 

He knows now that he loves Aidan with a madness, and a fierceness that he has never felt. He knows that he will never love anything the way he loves Aidan and that it will always be this way.

 

* * *

 

“I have something planned for us.” Aidan has a nervous energy as grabs Dean by the hand to pull him away from his laptop.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Do you have the time tonight for me?” Aidan is smirking as he asks it.

 

“I have every night for you.” Dean can’t help but smile as he says it.

 

* * *

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Can you be patient?”

 

“Oh that’s rich coming from you Aid.” Dean laughs as he thinks of Aidan’s tantrums.

 

“It’s a surprise.” Aidan glances from the road and over to Dean as he wiggles his eyebrows and bites his bottom lip.

 

“Yeah, you not getting us lost will be surprise enough.” Dean wraps his hands over Aidan’s as it rests on the stick shift.

 

* * *

 

“It’s a planetarium.” Dean is looking at the entrance as Aidan is holding the door open.

 

“Choice observation.”

 

Dean walks past Aidan and into the main lobby. “There’s no one here.”

 

“Just a few workers. I rented the place out.”

 

“Why?” Dean asks.

 

“Am I not allowed to do nice things?”

 

“You always have an ulterior motive.”

 

Aidan smirks and kisses the side of Dean’s lips.

 

* * *

 

They go to the auditorium and sit in the front row. Dean puts his hand in Aidan’s as they recline back in their seats. They watch the swirling colors, constellations, and collisions.

 

“It’s definitely better than the backyard and more informative than the books I’ve been reading.” Dean says as he watches the scenery switch to a sky full of stars.

 

“That’s because you haven’t been reading the books that you got.” Aidan says as he tries not to laugh.

 

Dean turns to face Aidan and give him a glare. “I’ll have you know…’

 

“Shhh, you’re going to miss the show.” Aidan is smiling, his eyes on the screen above them. He squeezes Dean’s hand as he turns back in his seat to continue watching the show.

 

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes but he can’t help the smile spreading on his face. The image starts changing as the stars start swirling into one another. Dean lifts an eyebrow curiously until the stars stop moving.

 

Dean reads what they spelled out in the sky.

 

_Will you marry me?_

 

Aidan is already moving down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

 

“When people ask where our story began I want to say it was the day that we met. I want to tell them that it built over time with lost moments and scars. I’m not ashamed of how long it took us. I want to tell them that it developed when I heard how you sigh when I kiss your neck, I want to tell them it exists in the nonexistent space between our hands when I hold yours. How you made me ache for something I didn’t have a name for. I want them to know that you didn’t just teach me how to build a home but a universe.”

 

Dean doesn’t hesitate. It’s the quickest in his life that he has ever said “Yes.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the delay! as I am sure you can tell, I have more WIPs than I can currently handle but I am trying to manage! that and though the stars walk backward has been taking an emotional toll on me.


	26. Stellar Cartography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in the dark Dean can see Aidan’s smile and he wonders if it's possible for the sun to be jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen to this song when you get to the bottom of the chapter, you'll know when [ [click here]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ThQkrXHdh4)

When they get home Dean can barely wait for the door to be shut. He pushes Aidan against the wall claiming his lips.

 

They’re laying on the bed and Aidan is on his stomach, fists clenched in the sheets. There is a soft glow of light coming from the open window. Dean kisses the few freckles on Aidan’s back, covering him him in soft kisses and gentle bite marks. He kisses his shoulder blade, the dip in the small of his back, his thighs. He feels the detail in Aidan’s back, sinew and taut. Aidan’s breath is hitching and he’s started to move his hips in small movements against the sheets trying to feel friction.

 

Dean grins as he roughly grabs Aidan by his hips and flips him over. “I didn’t say you could fuck the sheets.”

 

Aidan’s cheeks are flushed. “I just need you to touch me,” he breathes it out almost in a moan.

 

Dean moves slower now, his intentions deliberate and torturous. He kisses his way from Aidan’s naval, up his torso, to his ribs, kisses each bone he can feel underneath the pull of skin. He licks one of Aidan’s nipples, his tongue flat before pulling the flesh into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. Aidan arches his back and Dean moves quickly, he licks the dip between Aidan’s clavicles and then a long stripe up his exposed neck.

 

He loves the way Aidan gasps his name.

 

Aidan can feel Dean’s grin against his neck and he arches himself even higher, pressing their bodies closer together and exposing his neck even more. Dean bites down on the skin between his shoulder and neck and Aidan cries out. “Dean, please, please, fuck.”

 

Dean moves down Aidan’s body and places his lips on the tip of Aidan’s cock. The skin there is soft and Dean runs his lips up and down the tip reveling in the feel of it. Aidan starts thrusting his hips slightly, trying to get Dean to take more of him into his mouth.

 

In one quick movement he takes Aidan all the way down to the hilt and hums around his cock. Aidan clenches the sheets and pulls them up at the corners as Dean’s fingers stretch Aidan open. Aidan’s hips begin moving faster and Dean pulls away with a pop, his lips swollen and slick. Aidan groans as a shiver passes through his body from the loss of warmth.

 

When Dean fucks Aidan it feels a lot like building a home with the temples of their thighs and the oars of their shoulders, salt in their mouths, the smell of heaven, and stars behind their eyelids.

 

His whispers sound holy and his swearing is divine through his Irish lilt. His fingers move across skin like they’re writing scripture and Dean knows how it feels to worship.

 

 _“Aidan, Aidan, Aidan.”_ It’s a prayer passing Dean’s lips and Aidan swallows the sound.

 

He chases the taste of himself down Dean’s tongue.

 

* * *

 

They’re laying in the dark, the only noise is their ragged breaths and they can tell from their warm exhales the exact distance between them.

 

* * *

 

“It’s my favorite sound.”

 

“What is?” Dean asks turning on his side so he can see Aidan’s outline in the dark.

 

“When you say my name.”

 

Dean figures the same goes for him as well.

 

* * *

 

Dean laughs and shakes his head.

 

“What?” Aidan asks smiling. They’re laying on the grass in the backyard, they didn’t bother with a blanket, instead they can feel the coolness of the grass through their shirts. He takes another hit of the joint between his fingers and lets the burn of it linger in his lungs as he squints his eyes.

 

“Fucking metaphors is all.” Dean takes the joint from Aidan’s hands and takes the last hit.

 

“What sort?”

 

Dean tries to think about how to formulate what he’s going to say as he lets the smoke out of his lungs. It billows in front of him causing a thin veil. “I know it’s not possible for people to made from the sky, to be stars, to be the sun, but sometimes when I look at you I think it’s possible.”

 

Aidan is grinning madly at Dean now. “You know if someone would have told me a year ago that you would be so poetic I would have called them a fucking liar.”

 

“I could say the same for you.” Dean’s hand finds Aidan’s in the grass. He brushes his fingertips across the hair on the back of Aidan’s hand. He pinches the strands and pulls them until the hair is straight.

 

“I guess that makes me your muse.” Aidan is wiggling his eyebrows and biting his bottom lip and Dean feels significantly younger than he is. He feels unstoppable, and perhaps like a king or even a god. He laughs at the thought, laughs harder than he should. He rolls over to Aidan and props himself up so he’s looking down into Aidan’s eyes.

 

“Do you ever feel unstoppable?” Dean whispers. He doesn’t know if it’s him speaking or the joint. He pulls at blades of grass next to Aidan and then drops them on his chest. His fingers are staining green. If they’re gods then surely this is paradise, with lush colors and tingling skin.

 

“Only when I’m with you.”

 

He feels like he’s chasing the tail of a meteor.

 

* * *

 

It comes to him in waves, this crushing feeling when he looks at Aidan. It feels like stones weighing down on his chest. 

 

“What is it?” Aidan whispers in the dark as his hands are running across the expanse of Dean’s back.

 

Dean runs a thumb over Aidan’s cheek, feeling the soft skin there. He knows it down in his bones that he wasn’t meant to _not_ have this. He thinks about how there are different kinds of loves and how this one became an _almost_ kind of love, a _I-waited-too-long_ kind of love. That if that had happened he would be nothing but an atrophying heart.

 

“I just love you is all.” It’s simple but Dean doesn’t think he can voice was he was thinking.

 

Even in the dark Dean can see Aidan’s smile and he wonders if it's possible for the sun to be jealous.

 

* * *

 

It’s early afternoon, they aren’t too certain on the day though, and they haven’t told anyone yet about their engagement. They’ve been too wrapped up in each other. Dean is watching Aidan as he pushes the coffee table out of the way in the living room and over by the doors leading to the back patio.

 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks amused.

 

“Making space for us to dance.” Aidan raises his eyebrows at Dean.

 

“Oh no, you know how I dance.” Dean laughs as he shakes his head in a no manner.

 

“Oh come on, I’ve seen you, I’ve seen the way your hips can move.” Aidan struts to Dean and pulls him close, putting his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. He wraps one arm around Dean’s waist and the other into Dean’s hand.

 

“There isn’t any music.” Dean whispers as he rests his head on Aidan’s chest.

 

“We don’t need any. I’ll sing to you.”

 

Dean pulls back and erupts with laughter. “Oh god, your singing is horrible.”

 

Aidan fakes hurt. “You don’t want me to sing?”

 

“Alright, alright. Sing all you want.” Aidan smiles as he pulls Dean back into him.

 

Aidan sways them slowly back and forth and Dean relaxes into him. Aidan starts humming a melody that Dean has heard before but can’t place, it rests on the tip of his tongue. He can feel the vibrations through Aidan’s chest. Aidan is warm, it reminds Dean of the last days of summer.

 

“You’re absolute shit at this, but oh God do I love you for it.” Dean pulls his hand back enough to trace the heartline on Aidan’s palm with his thumb as they continue their slow swaying.

 

“Can you shut up for just a few moments?” There’s an evident smile in Aidan’s voice.

 

His voice is low. “ _Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you._ ” In his whispered tones his voice is smooth and melodic. Dean wonders to himself how he didn’t know that Aidan could sound like this, rich and dripping like honey. _“Shall I stay, would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you.”_

Aidan inhales, he wonders why Dean always seems to smell like the sea, clean and with an underlaying of salt.

 

_“Like a river flows surely to the sea, Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.”_

 

He closes his eyes and thinks of the ocean, how the atlantic breaks against Ireland’s coasts. For a brief moment he misses it, misses the different hues of green that Ireland has, misses the way the water there is a darker shade of blue, misses curve on the M50, the way that Dublin looks at night.

 

 _“Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you.”_   He tries for his voice not to break on the words, hopes that Dean can’t hear the tightness in his throat.

 

_“Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.”_

 

He knows though that the pang of missing it will fade. He has new memories to make and new highways to travel down.

 

 _“Take my hand, take my whole life too,”_ Aidan pulls Dean’s hand tighter, squeezes it until his knuckles turn white. The harder he grips Dean applies matching pressure against Aidan’s waist.

  
_“For I can't help falling in love with you, for I can't help falling in love with you.”_ His last words are barely audible. They’re holding each other like it's a lifeline. There’s so much unspoken between them as they continue to sway even though Aidan has stopped singing, neither one of them wanting to let go. They stay like that, wrapped in each other until the sun casts different shadows and the sky changes to pinks and oranges, and their bones ache from gripping so tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's fan art for this fic by the amazing [skylocked](http://www.skylocked.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Picture with a bonus Heim Theory ficlet that I wrote for the picture [[click here]](http://killaidanturner.tumblr.com/tagged/I%27m-reblogging-this-again-because-honestly-everyone-needs-to-look-at-this-piece-of-art)
> 
>  _I told myself that I would show you the stars_ [[click here]](http://skylocked.tumblr.com/post/131993786400/i-told-myself-that-i-would-show-you-the-stars)
> 
> follow me at [killaidanturner](http://killaidanturner.tumblr.com)


	27. Milliarium Aureum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He prays for this small world that they live in, the one that they created for each other, that it will expand and become so big that they will never be able to reach the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy fucking birthday Dean O'Gorman. I hope you fucking read this and it keeps you awake at night you little shit.

They put it off as long as they can, telling anyone. They want to keep it theirs, build it up into their own city. They’re afraid that once it is out there, that it won't be theirs. That it will be subjected to war, that buildings will crumble and leave nothing but dust. Where would they be at the end of the world? They would be where they began: together.

 

Dean reads to Aidan one night in bed, from one of the tattered books on his shelf. He doesn't remember where it came from, just that it was given to him a long time ago.

 

_"Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to stay that for destruction ice is also great, and would suffice."_

 

"Do you think that's true, that it will end in fire in ice?" AIdan asks him as he runs his hands through Dean's hair. Dean is leaning against his chest with the book open in his hands.

 

"It's a poem Aids."

 

"Well, I know, but do you still wonder?"

 

"I don't think it will end in fire and ice, not for us anyways. It will end in stardust."

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t stop them from planning, from laying out their ideas and sharing them. Spreading out their hope like how the ocean meets the horizon.

 

“Who’s walking down the aisle?”

 

“You are.” Dean says it without even looking up from his camera.

 

“We haven’t even talked about it.”

 

“We’re talking about it right now.”

 

“That’s hardly fair.”

 

“I’m not walking down the aisle Aid, end of discussion.” Dean gets up from his chair and places a kiss on the top of Aidan’s head as he leaves the room.

 

* * *

 

“My mum wants us to have a traditional Irish wedding.” Aidan is leaning on the counter flipping through a script.

 

“What exactly does a ‘traditional Irish wedding’ entail?” Dean asks Aidan as he opens up the fridge to grab them two beers.

 

“You know, the usual, ceilidh dances, an Irish feast, a ceramic horseshoe, a few Irish toasts, literally getting ourselves tied together.” Aidan is grinning as he looks up at the shocked horror that is Dean’s face.

 

“I’m not dancing.”

 

“It’s tradition.”

 

“Yeah well we’re just gonna have to break that tradition.” Dean is taking a swig of his beer and glaring at Aidan over the bottle.

 

“You’ll love it, I already signed us up for classes.”

 

“We haven’t even decided on what kind of wedding we’re having! I’m not doing a full traditional Irish.”

 

“And I’m not doing whatever it is you do over here on this island so it looks like we have to compromise.” Aidan is still grinning but Dean knows it’s not playful. He lets out a sigh of resolve.

 

“Ok, I’ll do the dance class, but you’re still the one walking down the aisle. Can’t you just teach me? Don’t you know like every dance in existence?”

 

“I probably could, but I thought that this would be more fun.”

 

“Show off.” Dean throws the bottle cap at Aidan who ducks to avoid it hitting him.

 

* * *

 

“Hydrangeas.”

 

Aidan groans at the suggestion.

 

“What? They’re a popular wedding flower.” Dean says flipping through a wedding magazine.

 

“Just because they’re popular doesn’t mean that we should have them.” Aidan pulls the magazine out of Dean’s hands and starts flipping through it. “Where did you even get this mate?”

 

“Well what do you want then? Don’t fucking call me mate.” Dean asks as he leans back into the couch and looks over at Aidan who is making faces as he flips through the pages.

 

Aidan shrugs. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“I was out earlier, buying food, so you know we could eat and I picked it up while I was out. I have no idea how to plan a wedding, I thought it would help. Now, what kind of flowers were you thinking?” Dean reaches out and tucks a stray hair behind Aidan’s hair as aidan shrugs his shoulders again.

 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

 

“I may have thought of white roses.” His voice is quiet and he’s trying to act nonchalant as he says it.

 

Dean smiles, “Then we’ll do white roses.”

 

“We don’t have to!” Aidan says quickly but Dean can already tell that it's what Aidan truly wants.

 

“We’ll do white roses.” He pulls the magazine out of Aidan’s hands and tosses it to the ground. Dean leans over and places his arms around Aidan on each side of the couch. Aidan lays back further into the cushions and smiles up at him.

 

“You’re too good to me.” Aidan says smiling at Dean before he pulls him down into a kiss.

 

“I know.” Dean smiles against Aidan’s lips. He rests his body on top of Aidan’s, kissing him slowly. Aidan lets his hands roam down Dean’s sides, light traces of his fingers underneath his shirt.

 

Dean starts moving his hips in a circular motion, earning him a groan from Aidan. He continues his slow torturous movements until Aidan can’t take it anymore. Aidan grabs Dean by the back of his thighs and rolls them off of the couch and onto the ground.

 

Dean winces as he hits the floor, “jesus Aid.”

 

Aidan is already unbuttoning Dean’s jeans, “you were going to slow.”

 

“At least you didn’t make a joke about being Jesus.” Dean says as he lifts up his hips to let Aidan slide his jeans off of him.

 

Aidan grins up at Dean as he pulls Dean’s cock out of his briefs, “I’m bigger than that.” For a moment Dean thinks to retort, to fight back against what Aidan just said but when Aidan’s lips wrap around his cock and he feels the wet heat of Aidan’s mouth he thinks that maybe he’s right.

 

Dean thrusts his hips up into Aidan’s mouth, reveling in the feel of his cock hitting the back of Aidan’s throat. His hands reach down and pull at Aidan’s hair, tugging the dark curls and earning a low moan from the man between his thighs.

 

Aidan is a king, built upon others' hearts instead of stone. Hearts that people willingly gave him when he never asked. His throne is Dean's heart, beating and chosen. 

 

Citadels and spires built out of moans, high enough to reach the skies. To touch constellations that bleed gold. 

 

Aidan fucks him on the carpet, hard and fast. Enough to cause a burn on the small of Dean's back, torn inflamed skin. As Aidan is collapsed on top of him in the living room, their chests rising and falling. Aidan's hand clasped in his, Dean whispers, "I hold with those who favor fire."

 

Aidan turns his head and buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck, "shut up."

 

* * *

 

“I sent out an announcement, it just says ' _we’re getting married and everyone can fuck off.’”_ Aidan moves his hands out in front of him like they’re spelling out the text.

 

“Sounds lovely.”  Dean says without looking up.

 

“Nah, I didn’t say that. Wanted to though. I did send a text to Jimmy, Jed, and Gharam and it may have fallen more similar under those words.” Aidan wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and rests his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean is on his computer editing a new photo that he had taken earlier in the day.

 

“What are we doing the for big announcement? You know the one that the press has to see. I’m sure they’ll have a field day over it since they caught us with our tongues down each other’s throats in the airport.”

 

“Thought something simple, just an announcement in the paper under the engagements section. The press will find it on their own then.” Aidan starts making a trail of kisses down Dean’s neck.

 

“I like that idea.” Dean tries to keep his voice even as Aidan’s hand trails down his front and to his jeans, undoing the button and slipping his hand inside. “I still like the idea that we don’t tell anyone except our friends and family and it just happens.”

 

“We could just go to a court house.” Dean’s breath hitches as Aidan’s hand slips around his hardening cock, giving it a few light strokes.

 

“We could.” Aidan takes one of Dean’s lobes and grazes his teeth across it.

 

“We have no idea what we’re doing, do we?” Dean asks as he leans back into Aidan to give him better access.

 

“I know what I’m doing.” He can feel Aidan’s grin against his skin.

 

“You know what I mean.” Dean pants out as Aidan’s thumb runs across the head of his cock, smearing his precum.

 

“I don’t think we have any fucking clue what we’re doing, but I know we’ll get it right.”

 

“All roads lead to Rome.” Dean reaches behind him, his hand resting on Aidan’s shoulder as he spreads his legs apart to give Aidan better access.

 

“What’s that?” Aidan ask in between trailing his lips along Dean’s neck.

 

“The Milliarium Aureum, it’s a statue in the center of Rome and all roads lead to it. Its how,” Dean lets out a moan as Aidan picks up his pace, pumping Dean’s cock quickly and running his thumb under the head, “-the proverb was made, that no matter what path you take you end up where you’re suppose to.”

 

“Is that what I am?” Aidan places his lips against Dean’s ear and breathes into him, letting him hear his quickened breath.

 

Dean closes his eyes as he tries to focus on the feel of the ridges on Aidan’s hand. He thinks for a moment if this is the case, if no matter what he did he would have found Aidan in the end.

 

“Yeah, you are.”

  


* * *

 

At night he lays awake and tries to fight the thoughts in his head, _“what do you want a different happy ending? This is everything that you have asked for.”_ When he looks at Aidan with his closed eyes and his features soft, he tries not to feel the clawing in his brain, the ones that whisper that Aidan will eventually realize that Dean is not a prince, nor a hero and this isn’t a story that ends with a dragon being slain and riding off into the sunset.

 

He fears that Aidan will eventually hate the chains of domesticity, of normalcy and repetition.

  
He prays for this small world that they live in, the one that they created for each other, that it will expand and become so big that they will never be able to reach the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, casually trying to pretend I haven't taken a month to update this when I've written like 7 other fics: s o r r y
> 
> no for real tho, I am, sorry that is. It's just I've had a lot of tragic ideas in my head that I needed to get out.


	28. Quantification of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All of a sudden you were in my life, like a bruise that you can’t remember how you got it but there it is under your skin. Then when you weren’t around all I wanted was to be in a car with you again, driving somewhere, anywhere. It took me a fucking ridiculously long time to tell you that I love you but I’ll make sure that I make up for it. Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now when I see you across a table, across a room, across the expanse of the universe if I have to, I want you to know that I have always loved you.”

_ Light travels faster than sound. _

 

The sun breaks through the curtains. Dean thinks of Aidan, of their constant time-zones when one of them is filming.  He hates that they see the sky at different times and that it takes a phone call to hear his voice.

 

* * *

 

 

“A January wedding?”

 

“Yeah Aids, it’s summer in New Zealand.”

 

“I thought we were getting married in Ireland.”

 

“Ok we’ll just be really cold then.” 

 

“Why January?” Aidan groans over the phone.

 

“Because it’s when you have a small break from filming but it’s fine let's do Ireland.”

 

“You say it so casually.”

 

“That’s because it doesn’t really matter, as long as it happens.”

 

“Shotgun wedding then?” Aidan laughs out.

 

“Someone would have to be pregnant for that to happen.”

 

“Don’t know mate, been by myself for some time now all the way over here in Eng-”

 

“I swear if you finish that sentence Turner you’re going to regret you even thought it.”

 

“Love when you use your pissed off voice.” Dean can practically hear Aidan’s smile.

 

“You just want to rile me up before I get there.” 

 

“You know me so well.”

 

* * *

“So soon?” Brett asks Dean when he sends out the invites to his family.

 

“Yeah, well we’ve known each other for years, it’s about time.” Dean just shrugs not making eye contact with his brother. 

 

“Great, so I’ve been planning a stag night for you-”

 

“Since when? You didn’t even know I was seeing anyone?” Dean sets his phone down and looks at this brother questioningly. 

 

“Oh for years now. Knew it would happen one day. I was thinking we go down to that pub, you know the one you told me you hate-”

 

“Please invite one of my friends that I know will not let you take this too out of control.” Dean says with a sigh as he sends out a text to Jared that implies he will be the one to take on this responsibility. 

 

* * *

“Please tell me it’s almost holiday break.” Dean groans out over skype.

 

“Few more weeks mate.” Aidan pulls the strings tight on the hood to his sweatshirt. 

 

“Are you ever gonna stop calling me that?” 

 

“What? Mate? Well you are.” 

 

“I will end this call right now.”

 

“Sorry bruv.” Aidan grins after he says and Dean wants nothing more than to be able to reach out to him. 

 

“I’m not doing this.” Dean says as he starts looking around the tabletop until he picks up his phone and unlocks the screen.

 

“Doing what?” Aidan asks nervously.

 

“This whole I stay here for months while you film your fucking time piece romance show.”   
  


* * *

“Come on buddy, we have a flight to catch.” Dean calls to Batman who is sprawled out on the floor. He opens his eyes but doesn’t lift his head.

 

“Don’t you wanna go on a trip?” Dean shakes the leash which causes Batman to close his eyes and ignore Dean even further.

 

“Don’t you wanna see Aidan?” Batman’s ears perk up and he lifts up his head. “Yeah, we’re gonna go see Aidan, are you going to come or not?” Dean watches at Batman gets up and trots over to him with his tail wagging. He clips the leash on his collar. “Traitor.”

 

* * *

“Sorry I can’t really leave set.” Aidan says over the phone as Dean lands in Dublin.

 

“It’s alright, enjoy Cornwall. I’ll be, I guess with your parents.” 

 

“Mum is really excited to have you stay with her while you plan out the wedding. Wish I could be apart of it.”

 

“You’re such a shit liar, you’re probably so happy you aren’t involved in seating arrangements.” 

 

“I’ll have you know I would love nothing more than to sit in my parents house and have my mum worry over me and over feed me.”

 

“You just want free food.” 

 

“Got me there.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you really looking for places out here?” Aidan asks over the phone.

 

“Did you take you that long? For it to actually click in your head what I meant?” 

 

“I heard you say it, yeah I guess I didn’t actually think.”

 

“Yeah I figured while I was out here I could look at something so when you’re on set I wouldn’t have to be too far away.”

 

“Great, what I want is a nice studio, we can have a bed not to far from the couch that way-”

 

“Are you already planning on how lazy you can possibly be when not working?”

 

“Oh yeah, that’s the only thing I care about.” Aidan says it with such seriousness that Dean can’t help but laugh.

 

* * *

“What the fuck?” Dean whispers under his breath as he walks into a pub down a little back alley in the town of Clondalkin, Ireland.

 

The walls in the pub are lined with photos, barely leaving any space to see what color the walls are. Some of the photos happen to be photos of Aidan. Some are from him sitting in this very pub and others are from premieres and press junkets. 

 

Dean snaps photos of a few of the frames and texts them to Aidan.

 

**Aid 22:30:** Please tell me you’re not actually there and this isn’t actually happening to me

 

**reply 22:31:** Why not?

 

**Aid 22:31:** They’re just a little bit proud of me and what I’ve done ok, so they hang a few photos

 

**reply 22:32:** That’s really cute :) so nice to see such a supportive town

 

**Aid 22:33:** Laugh it up

 

Dean spends the night with Aidan’s parents having a drink in this pub that seems to be a tribute to Aidan in ways. He tells them funny stories of Aidan and for the first time he lets himself be completely open about their relationship. He didn’t realize how freeing it would feel.

 

* * *

“How are the stars in Ireland?” Aidan asks Dean as they lay out on the grass in front of his parent’s house. Dean waited for two weeks before Aidan was finally able to take time off from work.

 

“Not as bright.” Dean wishes that he could reach up and grab parts of the sky, to tie them to his wrist so they are never too far. 

 

“You’re just saying that.” Aidan teases as he nudges Dean with his elbow.

 

“No really, there’s this thing called the Bortle Dark-Sky Scale. It pretty much puts places in classes for how many stars can be seen.” Dean says as he points to the Big Dipper. “This is probably around a class five because I can see some of the major constellations but nothing else. Whereas in New Zealand, at our house it's more rural, so it would be about a class three. It’s all based off of light pollution. When we get home I’ll show you the zodiac positions, and the soft yellow glow around the stars.” 

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“I used to think that it meant that the sky was darker, which it is in a way. Then I realized it just meant I could see more the other things in the sky.” He used to think that he liked the night sky for its dark, how it pressed against his teeth. It took him years to realize the stars that were in reach and how he could see  _ everything. _

 

"You should have been an astronaut or an astronomer." Aidan teases Dean, his smile bright even in the encompassing dark.

 

"I don't think I would have been good at it. I just think that there are other ways to defy gravity."

 

"How?" Aidan asks and Dean sits up.  Aidan keeps still on the ground, hands behind his head as Dean takes place on his lap. He takes both of his hands and rests them against Aidan's chest.

 

"With words." He feels Aidan's heart beat pick up from eight beats per minute to a hundred. "That's how."

 

* * *

__

Dean cleans out his wallet, he finds a few folded up receipts. The ink on the fading the thin papers. He looks at the one from the coffee shop from a little cafe in Berlin from two years prior, where him and Aidan had gone to get something for their hangovers. There's one from dinner a month ago, when Aidan complained that there wasn't anything to eat in the house so they went and got Thai. Then there is one from last week, just a small receipt with nothing on it but a pack of cigarettes that Aidan had needed. He looks at these small pieces of paper, to anyone else they would seem meaningless but to him they tell a story.

 

* * *

_ Clink Clink. _

 

As far as rehearsal dinners go Dean figures theirs has to be going smoothly. 

 

“I know it's typical for the parties of the grooms to tell stories but since all of you are done embarrassing the both of us I want to say something.” Dean sets his knife down on the table after hitting his champagne glass and clears his throat. He turns to Aidan.

 

“I’ve written my vows, I don’t know how many times now but I know there is so much that I still have to say to you. Too many missed opportunities, I don’t want to let them slip by anymore. I didn’t just fall in love with you Aidan. I guess it was more of a spiral, probably hit a few things on the way down.” Dean smiles at this when he hears a few small eruptions of laughter from the table. “All of a sudden you were in my life, like a bruise that you can’t remember how you got it but there it is under your skin. Then when you weren’t around all I wanted was to be in a car with you again, driving somewhere, anywhere. It took me a fucking ridiculously long time to tell you that I love you but I’ll make sure that I make up for it. Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now when I see you across a table, across a room, across the expanse of the universe if I have to, I want you to know that I have always loved you.”

 

Dean can feel a tightness in his throat as his hands grip on tightly to Aidan’s. He looks down at the lines in their hands and tries to imagine them years from now. When he looks back up he sees Aidan’s eyes are red rimmed, his lips pulling into a smile. The whole table is quiet except for a few sniffles and cloth wiping away at cheeks. 

 

“Kiss him!” Someone yells down the table and it’s all the encouragement they need. Aidan pulls Dean close to him and kisses him like it’s their first kiss all over again. Kisses him like they won't need to breathe.

 

* * *

“How is Aidan doing?” Dean asks Brett while he’s adjusting his own tie multiple times over in the mirror of the hotel suite.

 

“He was fine after he found his so called lucky pants.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes and smiles. “I can only imagine.”

 

* * *

**20 Minutes Prior**

 

“I can’t do this. I can’t.”

 

“Aidan what's wrong?” Brett had walked into Aidan’s hotel room as a spy for Dean. He closed the door behind him as he watched Aidan toss clothing all around the room.

 

“I can’t find my lucky pants.” 

 

“But you’re wearing pants?” Brett points to the tight black briefs that are clinging to Aidan’s legs.

 

“Yes, but not my lucky ones!” Aidan undoes the top button on his crisp white shirt as he looks about the room again.

 

“Why are they lucky?”

 

“They’re the ones I was wearing the first time I kissed Dean.”

 

“Didn’t need to know that!” Brett calls as he walks into the sitting area of the hotel room. He takes a seat on the couch only to see blue fabric sticking out of the cushions. He pulls on it until there’s a pair of blue pants stretched out in his hands.

 

“Would it happen to be these?” He asks curiously and with eyebrows raised.

 

Aidan rushes over to him and snatches them out of his hands. “Yes, that is them!”

 

“Why were they in the couch?”

 

“Dean may have come in my room last night, in more ways than one.” Aidan gives him a cheeky look and wiggles his eyebrows. 

 

“Gross. I gotta go. Put your pants on and get your ass down to the venue.”

 

* * *

Dean stares at the front of the room, over two hundred people sitting in front of him. He keeps his eyes fixed on the door and he thinks of countdowns. He thinks of launching rockets into space. He remembers the last time he had a countdown was when he had left Aidan. He thinks of all the months, all the time that has come between them since then. He smiles at the thought of how different it is now.

 

_ T minus 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1. _

 

* * *

__

“You told me once that you thought your eyes were simple. I hadn’t known you very long. We had been drinking, that seems to be a pattern with us a lot, and you saw yourself in a reflection of a dust covered mirror in a pub. I couldn’t see what you were seeing. I thought that they were sharp, and held something just out of my reach. You became something important to me then, something human and tangible. They were the most beautiful thing. Over time I learned of your insecurities, of what you call your imperfections. But I, I always liked you best when you let your hair dry naturally, how it always seems wild and untamable, just a little bit like you. And your laugh, the one that rolls like thunder, there’s never a day that I don’t want to hear it. And I especially like how at the end of your nose it’s just a little bit crooked, it matches mine in a way. I like the scar in your eyebrow and I like the way you tell the story behind it. I like the way you tell stories, how your smile is so big that your eyes squint and I can see the lines etched around them from years of your laughter, and I want you to help me tell our story for the rest of our lives.” With Aidan's hands in Dean's he knows what he is saying to Aidan would never waver, that he wants him by his side.

 

Aidan lets out a small laugh and looks away, he lets go of one of Dean’s hands to wipe away the tear in his eye. He can’t keep the smile off his face or the way his throat feels tight. He looks down at the ground for a moment trying to compose himself. Aidan looks out to their friends and family sitting in chairs. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to follow that up, I think he’s just told you everything about me.” The chairs erupt with laughter.

 

Dean feels so full of love like he might explode. Leave it to Aidan to make everyone laugh. He knows how he gets nervous and these are all the signs. 

 

“You talked to me once about a theory of everything, of formulas and equations. I forgot to tell you I figured it out. I guess I always had the answer to it though, I realized the answer the second I knew there was a side to you that you weren’t letting everyone see. That your tight lipped smiled held something guarded and I wanted to know it, wanted to know what laid beyond that.  How I wanted you, I wanted you so bad. You could have asked me for anything, you still can, I would have missed planes for you and a part of you knew that. You always knew the answer as well, it was hidden there in the way your hand fits in mine, and in the things you don’t say. How I can read them here,” Aidan reaches up and touches the corner of Dean’s eye, right above his cheek, “And here,” He lightly traces Dean’s eyebrows, “and here.” His fingers trace the dimples carved into his cheeks. “It’s in how you carry yourself and how your lips feel against mine. I guess what I’m trying to say is that separately we aren’t the answer, by myself I’m not it. The answer is that it only makes sense when we’re together.”

  
It’s the big bang, their vows, the start of a new universe. It’s stars for every memory, planets for the most memorable. Charted territory and the unknown, endless and ever changing. This is the universe; _ “let me name it for you.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a fucking wild ride. it's finally done. I hope that you learned something about space. I hope you learned something about love. I hope you felt something. Thanks for reading and commenting and just following me on this journey to write my first ever AiDean fic. I will always love this fic more than anything but it's time for me to write these two doing other things and explore other universes. you can always follow me on tumblr at [killaidanturner](http://killaidanturner.tumblr.com/)


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